


Ni Viir

by tearoseglasses



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Akatosh is a bad dad, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, a stupid dream, but not as much as the daedra, but shit happens, inspired by a dream, the aedra kept a bit more of their power which allows more interaction with nirn, the dovahkiin used to be an actual dragon, this is the skyrim main quest, we all know this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 32,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23710522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearoseglasses/pseuds/tearoseglasses
Summary: What if the Dragonborn was a true dragon millennia ago? A Dragon who tried to escape and paid for his apparent betrayal?Updates will be posted whenever i finish a chapter! i cant guarantee it'll be often!I don't have all the kinks worked out for this quite yet. But I have plenty of time.Rated Teen and Up due to some scenes of violence and physical injury.
Comments: 30
Kudos: 53





	1. Underneath

CHAPTER ONE: UNDERNEATH 

Ralof stared as the Imperials fled the chamber as the ground shook. He cursed as they vanished with the only torch in hand. He dug into a fold in the rags he'd be left in, pulling out a chipped, bent pick and a piece of shattered metal. The chamber shakes and crumbles as he works until he hears a click and the door opens. 

He pulls himself up and begins walking blindly as his eyes continue to adjust. Once they do, he squints at a shape stuck in a cage away from where he could have seen. Chained up. Knocked out. And for just a moment he contemplates leaving the poor sod. But he limps over, picking the lock as quickly as he can before pulling open the door and working at the chains. 

The person falls the moment the last cuff is released. Ralof pushes them up, shaking them. He pulls them up into his arms and starts moving as quickly as possible as the chamber cracks and still crumbles. He looks back at it as it crumbles, heavy stone and dirt crushing the cages.

He turns and keeps moving, not wanting to test his luck, especially with the added weight. Its obvious people had already run through here. Everything is gone and a drawbridge is already down. As he crosses it, the cavern behind him caves in. Two scaled claws step in, followed by one giant head.

Ralof pales and stumbles back, falling on the other side of the bridge. Blood red eyes lock in on him. 

_ "Hi lost ru fah aan lingrah tiid, zeymah... nid lingrah!" _

Ralof rolls away from the opening as the dragon releases flames through the opening. The person stirs, muttering something before tensing and falling completely limp again. 

_ "NID LINGRAH, NIKRIIN!" _ The dragon's voice pierces Ralof's ears and he looks down at the person as they mutter once again.

_ "Nid... Alduin..." _ the muttering becomes incoherent as the dragon lets another bout of flames loose through the opening. Another roar echoes through the cavern and the beating of wings throws dust and pebbles toward the two. Ralof cautiously stands, glancing around the corner.

The dragon is gone. 

He sighs, continuing forward through the cavern. They pass a dead bear and her cub, bones of elk, deer, and whatever else the best got its paws on. And once dull light leaks down on them, Ralof stops, sitting against the cool rock, heart pounding. He looks down at the person. 

A boy. No older than 15. Dark hair and an old birthmark over most of his face with freckles where the skin was untouched. He looked... almost familiar. Almost. 

After a moment of rest, a moment of calm, to breathe, Ralof stands again and walks to the exit of the cavern system. He stumbles into the night, looking up at two full moons. 

He's not too far from Riverwood. Not too far. Not too far. 

He walks off the main roads, leaving the smoking village behind him. He has no idea where the dragon is. It seems to know the boy... but that's insane. How could that be possible? It can't be. A fox darts past him, stopping and staring too long for comfort before bolting off again. Ralof sighs as he sees smoke rising over the trees.

He walks around the back of the town, avoiding the guard, just in case. A cow looks up at him as he passes, knocking on a door. A woman pulls it open, staring at him. 

"Ralof- inside now-!" She pulls him in, shouting and bolting the door behind her as a light walks closer. A guard. 

"Gerdur, I'm sorry to show up like this-"

"What happened to you?! You look half dead!" She watches as he lays the boy down in an extra bed. "Who is this?! If this child is a soldier-"

"I don't know who he is, Gerdur."

She stares at him, "Where have you been...? We've been worried sick."

"I'll tell you once my heart stops pounding. Just. Give me a moment." He falls into a wooden chair. Gerdur stands, pulling out a clean pair of pants and a shirt. She hands them to Ralof before moving to grab a rag and water. She waits for him to change and sit again before handing the rag and water to him. He nods a thank you and soaks the rag before wiping his face clean of sweat, blood, and grime. They sit in silence as she assesses the boy. 

He sits forward staring at him as Gerdur pulls another rag from a drawer and fills a bowl with water. How long had the boy been there? How had he never noticed him? Sure he would have heard... a shiver runs down his spine. Would Tullius stoop this low? To torture a child for information? 

Gerdur pulls a stool over to the bed, carefully wiping away blood and dirt from the boy's face and other wounds across his body. They don't speak as Gerdur glares at the cuts. 

Ralof clears his throat. "Where are Hod and Frodnar?"

"They went hunting along the river. They will be gone for a day more."

"Ah." He looks at the boy, "Will he be okay?"

"He'll have some scarring, but yes. He should be fine. How did you find him?"

"We were both in the same situation. But he passed out."

"Based on the wounds, I'd say blood loss was the culprit." Gurder dabs the boy's head, slowly cleaning off a cut on his forehead. 

"I swear I've seen him before. He looks too familiar."

"Likely just in passing."

"Possibly. You'd think I'd remember a birthmark like that. But when the dragon was speaking and he spoke back, I swear it."

"How does that make any sense, brother?" She turns to him, dropping the rag in a bowl of water. Ralof shakes his head. 

"It doesn't." 

They both look back at the boy as he groans and shifts. 

"Will you tell me how he got these? Or where you've been?"

"Gerdur-"

"I know, you don't like talking about the war when here. But why was a child involved?"

Ralof sighs, "Under Helgan, under the keep, the Imperials have a dungeon and torture room. I've been there for a few weeks. I didn't even realize he had been brought in. I don't even know how they could think he's a Stormcloak."

"They tortured a child... bastards, the lot of them..."

"You should sleep, Gerdur. He'll be fine." 

"Aye. You too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations; 
> 
> Hi lost ru fah aan lingrah tiid, zeymah... nid lingrah! - You have run for a long time, brother... no longer!  
>    
> NID LINGRAH, NIKRIIN! - No longer, Coward!  
>    
> Nid- no
> 
> Dovahzul is fucking annoying, you should all know.


	2. Dreams or Memories?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembers now. But can you act on memories that don't feel real enough?

CHAPTER TWO: DREAMS OR MEMORIES?

He opened his eyes. They found green grasses and bright flowers. Golds and reds. Little animals scurry past him and lizards puff smoke into the air just off in the distance.

Saansilkiin.

That's his name. 

Of course, it is. What kind of question is that?

_"Saansilkiin!"_

He looks up but the landscape changes, gold and green vanishing. Grey storm clouds pour down on him. 

_"NIKRIIN!"_ The word echos in his head as a black dragon stands over him. 

_"The humans are not threat-"_

_"Threat?! They could never be a threat! But you do not wish to conquer?!"_

_"I am fine here."_ His words do not feel his own, nor does the movement of an appendage behind him. But the pain that came. Oh that he felt. 

The black beast's claws raked over one of his eyes. His body jerk. He opens his eyes. He can hear a fire. Feel a fur blanket over him. A firm pillow underneath. His hand slowly goes up to his eye. He blinks as his finger brushes his eyelashes. He places his hands in front of him. For just a moment he sees claws. Scales. 

He sits up and places his feet on the wood. Standing, he tenses, body feeling out of balance so tremendously, he falls forward, barely catching himself. Two hands grip his shoulders, pulling him up. He looks to his right, staring at a woman. 

"You're okay. Come on." She sits him back down. He watches as she scoops water into a cup and hands it to him. Once he drinks it, she takes it. "Go back to sleep. Sunup is still hours away." She smiles as he nods. He lays down with his back to her, staring at the wall. 

Saansilkiin. 

He doesn't move much as the room grows lighter. He hears others moving. As soon as the house is completely light, the sound and smell of food fill it. Sam rolls over and sits up. His hand drifts back up to his eye. 

"Are you okay, lad?" 

Sam's hand jerks away, looking up. His mind slowly takes in the question before he nods. 

"Let him wake up, Ralof."

"Aye." The woman speaks seemingly from nowhere, walking over to Sam with a small bowl of food. He eats it slowly as his stomach already feels full. She takes the bowl once he's finished and pulls a stool over to him. She unwraps the blood-soaked bandages only to stare. The wounds are healed without any evidence insight. 

"Gerdur?"

"Are you a mage?" She looks at Sam. He smothers the feelings of equal surprise and nods stiffly. It isn't exactly a lie. She nods slowly. 

"Where are you from, lad?"

"Dawnstar." Was that too close? 

"Part of the army?"

"Just a Courier."

"Shouldn't even be doing that," Gerdur mutters under her breath as she unwraps the rest of the bandages, looking under each. 

"What's your name, Lad?"

"Sam." Will they know? 

"Will you be heading back to Dawnstar?"

"Yes." No. They don't.

"You're not leaving yet." Gerdur pulls the last wrap off and turns to the man. "You're both still caked with sweat and sand."

"Aye. Can you walk, Lad?"

"I think so."

"Come on then." Ralof stands, waiting for Sam to get up. He wobbles a bit but catches himself. Still feels off balance. Gerdur hands the two of them a clean set of clothes, a small towel, and a heavy, hooded, cloak. Sam looks at the cloak then back up at them. 

"Just a precaution." 

Sam nods and ties it around his neck. Its... it's a little long. Sam isn't short. But he definitely isn't 6 feet tall. Maybe he is short... 

Ralof opens the door and steps out, Sam following behind him as they walk around the back of a town Sam had never seen before and down to a slightly blocked area of the river where the water had swelled up to be feet deeper than it should be. It looked like it was made by animals and Sam jumped slightly when a beaver popped its head up. A beaver. It'd been so long since he'd seen one. 

It'd been so long since he left Windhelm. 

"The water's cold. But it'll help any pain you still have. People don't normally come here this time of year, but I'll keep a watch just in case the Imperials did find us somehow. Wouldn't want to be caught with our pants down, would we." Ralof smiles as Sam snorts. Sam watches as Ralof walks off a bit before turning back to the water. It couldn't be colder than the delta at Windhelm. No Horkers to watch out for. Just fish. And a few beavers. He sets the clean cloths on the cloak. 

It's calm as he pulls off a stained shirt and tattered pants, leaving them in the dirt. The water is cold as he sinks into the deeper part, feet sinking into the small, soft, patches of mud. A beaver watches him, teeth clicking. Sam looks at it, locking eyes. It slides back into the water, vanishing under a lodge closer to the edge. 

He does the same, sinking into the water, scratching and raking his scalp and hair. Dried blood and dirt flows into the water. He surfaces looking around himself once more. Its late fall. Snow has already hit Windhelm. But here, the trees are changing. Reds and greens contrast sweetly against blues and whites. He admires it for a moment more before swimming to the edge, drying off, and pulling on the clean clothes and the cloak. He walks up to where Ralof is sitting. 

Ralof looks over at him, "Done?"

"Mmhm."

"I won't be long. Just keep watch." He walks down as Sam nods. Sam sits on a rock, looking around again. His eyes stop at a flash of black slinking fad above him. 

The dragon...

He touches his eye, fingers remaining as the black vanishes. He stands slowly, moving closer to trees. 

"Everything alright?!"

"Mmhm- Y-Yes!" He stumbles over the word as he sits under one, low hanging, tree. His eyes move away from the mountains as he hears talking. 

"Did you hear? Helgan was destroyed!"

"By what?"

"A dragon!"

"Come on, don't make shit up."

"I swear it, I'm not. I saw the beast fly off, just didn't know it wasn't a dragon at the time!"

Sam shrinks, pressing himself again the trunk as the people pass him, yards off on the main road. 

Dragons. Dragons. The things he'd grown up being told stories about? The... the things from. From his dream. His dream. He knows that black dragon. It had scared for months when he was small. He... he would have the same dreams-

Gods, what is he thinking?! These are dreams and nothing more. Vivid dreams, but just dreams. Dreams stemming from memories and stories and obsessions that left him years ago.

Saansilkiin. 

He tenses as the name sits on his tongue. 

Saan. 

Sil. 

Kiin. 

A name. 

"Sam?" Ralof is crouched down in front of him, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Sam crawls out from under the tree. Ralof starts walking. 

"I don't know how you stayed in that water so long."

"It wasn't that cold. The Beavers are in it."

"The beavers have fur." Ralof snorts, looking back at Sam as a slightly dumbfounded look crosses his face. 

"Didn't feel that cold, I guess." Who is he joking. That water wasn't, wasn't cold to him. 

"When you were captured, did they get anything from you?" 

"I burned it."

"Good."

The smell of food hits both of them as they walk back into the home. Gerdur looks at the two of them, eyes obviously approving. 

"Feel better?" She smiles as Sam nods. "Well, food is almost done, the both of you can stay as long as you need."

"Gerdur-"

"I won't hear it, Ralof. Sam, you know the way back to Dawnstar from here?"

Sam looks at her for a moment before nodding, "Yes." He can find his way. All he needs to do is find a major city. But if he was just in Helgan, he needs to head more north. The main road will be fine. 

"You can stay for a bit more if you'd like. But I'm sure your family is worried sick. If my boy went missing, I'd rip the whole of Skyrim apart until I found him." 

Sam stares at her as she turns. Is his Uncle panicking right now? Probably. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations;
> 
> Nikriin- Coward
> 
> Saansilkiin- Lost Soul Born


	3. Into

CHAPTER THREE: INTO

"Here," Gerdur holds out a drawstring bag, wound shut, "It's about a 7-day walk to Dawnstar."   
Sam doesn't grab it. He feels bad enough having stayed here for two days. Not to mention the clothes and cloak... But Gerdur takes another step closer to him, placing the bag in his hands.   
"The roads are dangerous. Stay safe."   
He nods.  
"Perhaps we'll see each other again, Lad. If I'm ever placed near Dawnstar, I'll be sure to say hello."  
He nods again. That would never happen. By the time Ralof would be moved. He'll find out who Sam is. He will. And then everything will crash together.  
"And keep an eye upwards. World's turning strange."   
The Dragon. He'd nearly forgotten.   
"Send a letter once you're home." Gerdur gives him one last smile before he steps out the door. Sam pulls the hood up and starts walking. He passes a singular guard who stops and stares at him for just a moment too long for comfort. Sam keeps apace, walking past a blonde woman, shaking a rug out the steps. She glances at him but ultimately continues with her task as he passes.   
Sam walks out of the village and across a bridge. The world is calm though he thinks this is the most bird song he's ever heard in one place. He comes to a stop at a crossroads, looking up the path following the mountain. Just past the trees, he sees a crumbling ruin. They're all over Skyrim. But he'd never dared go near one. His Uncle had made sure of that with the tales of what lies within.   
Draugr, namely. Cursed Undead from the times... when the dragons ruled.   
He felt as if the sun was staring only at him. Had he not had a cloak, a hood, his neck would be blisters. He stands still, the world moving rather fast around him.   
He did run.   
He fled in the dead of night-  
He drops the bag, falling into the grass as his eye burns. He presses his hand over it, taking deep breaths. It will pass. It will pass. It has happened before and it will pass.   
And it does. He can open it, waiting for the world to regain focus. His eyes move upward, looking at the ruin once again. Maybe the tales of Draugr were just stories to keep him from getting locked in a ruin. Maybe...  
Something was drawing him toward an old ruin. Something. He looks over as a fox steps out in front of him. It stares at him for a moment before walking upwards. Toward the ruin. Sam picks the bag up, standing.   
" _Hi lost daal, Nikriin, nu Zu'u mindok._ " A voice rumbles above him. He turns and looks up. The dragon. His hand touches his eye as he steps back. He turns and bolts up the mountain after the fox. The dragon flies after him, laughing.   
" _Still a coward! I will take joy in slaughtering you once again!_ "   
Sam slips on the old stone steps, skin on his elbow ripping open. He scrambles back up, running to the door. He grabs the handle, pulling as hard as he can.   
" _Hiding will not save you. It did not save you before!_ "  
Sam gives one last yank and it pulls open. He throws himself inside, pulling the door shut as the dragon releases a stream of white flame. He pants and stumbles back, pain bubbling through his hand. He looks down at it, skin red and blistered. He crumples, gripping his hand, forcing golden magic to encase it. The pain slowly ebbs away and he breaths. His breath echos through the empty, old, hall.   
He stops breathing the soft echo of voices bumps into him.   
"Someone is here."  
"Who would come up here? This place has so many ghost stories around it."  
"Who knows. But kill him when you find him."  
A sword of purple light melts from his palm. He listens for the sound of footsteps, waiting until he can jump out and the sword sinks into the bandit's neck.   
Sam pulls it out, panting. He can't go out the way he came. Besides. He hears whispers.   
"Who's in here?!"   
He tenses and the sword vanishes as a Nord woman walks around a pillar. Torch in one hand, short sword in the other. Sam steps back. She sighs.  
"What the fuck are you doing here?"  
"A-a fox-"  
"A fox."  
"And a-a dr-"  
"Fen! What's taking so long?!"  
"It's a kid, Ake!"  
"A kid?" A man walks into the torchlight, staring at Sam. "Why is he here?"  
"A fox." Fen smiles at him. He laughs. The laugh echoes. Sam looks between the two. His hands are hidden under his cloak. A dagger could work as long as he focuses well enough.   
"I can tell you're not a wood elf." He steps closer to Sam, bearing his teeth. "Who told you?"  
"Told me what...?"   
"Playing stupid won't help you." He pulls out a pitch-black dagger. Sam feels one similar materialize in his palm.   
"I... followed a fox."   
"See there you go again-" he chokes on his words as Sam thrust the dagger into his chest. He pulls it up and outwards, slicing through flesh and bone. The man falls and Sam's focus turns to the woman, rage taking her face. She lunges at him. He barely holds up the dagger, catching her sword before summoning another and jamming it under her chest plate. She staggers back and he rams his other dagger into her skull. It vanished as she fell back.   
He walks slowly over the body, steps silent as he walks on the damp, mossy, stone. He can't go back through the doors. A predator will leave as to not waste energy. But the Dragon isn’t a bear after winter and he isn’t up in a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Hi lost daal, Nikriin, nu Zu'u mindok- You have returned, coward, now I know


	4. Words

CHAPTER FOUR: WORDS

The passageway takes him down slippery steps and passed dimming torches. He stops as the echo of a dying man reaches him, gasping and groaning. He pushes forward and eventually it stops. The source soon comes into view; a man crumpled on the ground with darts sticking from his face, chest, arms, and legs. Sam glances around. A puzzle. An old puzzle. 

His eyes follow the path of a fallen carving. A snake. He turns to the pillars, finding the one out of position and forcing it to turn. It clicks softly as the snake carving shows its face. The gate slowly raises. Sam continues on. 

The torches are lit and strong, making shadows dance across the walls. Sam glances around as scurrying echoes around him. Flames grow in his palm as he approaches a set of stairs. Stairs that'll take him deeper into the ruin. He starts walking down, freezing, and letting loose a stream of flames as a shriek echoes. The shriek changes and Sam watches as two Skeevers tumble down the stairs, charred and lifeless. 

He takes another breath and continues, stepping over the Skeevers. 

"Fen?! Hello?!"

Sam stops.

"Ake?! I'm sorry I ran ahead!"

He moves forward, burning through cobwebs as he grows closer to the source of the calling. He stops as the webs block out the entrance to an open area. He takes another step, tensing as he steps on a steel sword. As it echoes, through the webs, he sees a monster of a spider drop from the ceiling. Venom drips from its jowls as it glances around, skittering through the room. Sam leans down and picks up the sword. He waits for the spider to turn its back before he slices through the webs. The spider stays turned away as he sneaks toward it-

"You! Help me! It's going to eat me!" A dark elf wails, his cries echoing through the chamber and the spider turns to Sam, hissing slowly as it moves toward him. Sam raises the sword, waiting, holding his stance, and slicing through the spider's legs and pincers. The spider flails backward before running at him again. Sam thrusts the blade in between two of the spider's eyes. The beast falls, twitching. 

Sam pulls out the sword, staring at the elf. 

"You have to help me, please, I know how to get to the treasures of this place, you can take whatever you want, just set me free!"

Sam walks toward him. Treasure. No wonder. "What kind of treasure?"

"Gold I'm sure! Lots and lots of gold!"

"And if I cut you down, you're not going to try and kill me, are you?"

"I would never!"

Sam holds up the sword, slicing through the webs. The elf manages to get out of them for the most part only to pull a dagger off his body and lunge at Sam. Sam throws up the sword, wobbling as the dagger rams into the sword with the elf's full force. The elf looks down and sweeps under Sam's feet, throwing him to the ground before turning and bolting. Sam blinks, regaining himself. 

Until he hears a scream. 

It has to be the elf. 

Clashing of iron. 

Then silence. 

Sam waits. He hears footsteps. A... groan? Grumble? 

Oh, Gods. Is... is that what a Draugr sounds like...? How hard will it be to kill something that's already dead? It can't be that difficult. Right? 

He stands up, holding the sword pointed down. The footsteps stop as he begins walking down the same hall as the elf. He rounds a corner, freezing at the sight of three, ugly, half decomposed, walking, corpses. Only one has armor. The other two simply hold swords. Upright. Ready to fight again. 

Sam's eyes drift down to the elf's body, following a trail of blood to his head, a good five feet away. 

_"Kulaan..."_ the armored Draugr speaks and the other two drop their swords, the tips dragging on the stone as they return to their burial spots. 

It can speak. He knows that word... 

_"Sizaan Kulaan do fin Lok..."_ it grunts before sitting down, sword in hand. Sam waits for it to move again. 

It doesn't. 

Lost Prince. 

It… Lost Prince...

He stares at it before stumbling past it, until something gold catches his eyes. Just a foot away from his hand is a golden dragon claw. His Uncle as one. An ebony one. He reaches down and grabs it before continuing further into the halls. Some Draugr stay in their spots, hands and weapons on their hearts. 

Others walk freely, watching him, greeting him, lighting torches just before he enters rooms. 

All speaking in the tongue he half understands, speaking the same words as the first ones. He leaves open chambers, staring at a connecting cave with a snow-fed stream flowing through it and off a cliff at the end where sunlight streams through it. 

Sudden dread drops in his stomach. What if the dragon is there? Waiting? Like a sabercat in the bushes? He forces his legs to move, stepping carefully on the slick stone past glowing mushrooms and slime mold. He stops just before the sunlight. Staring at it. He bolts, slipping on the snow and sliding the rest of the way out of the light. His heart pounds and he scoots further away from it. He waits for a stream of flame but it never comes. 

So he pulls himself up and continues on. No draugr walk anymore. The torches burn, but do not destroy the hay it feeds on. He stops, placing his hand next to one only to pull it away as a flame licks his hand. Still hot. 

He moves on, pushing open a two, age-eaten, doors to a long hall. He stares at the walls, running his fingers over the stone. 

Moths... Dibella...

Owls... Jhunal...

Bears... Tsun...

And Dragons... Alduin...

Alduin. 

Sam stares at the last mural. The Dragon flying over a priest with people kneeling at his feet. He pulls away from it stopping in front of the door. He looks at the palm of the claw, moving the dials on the door to match it. He pushes the claw in place and steps back the claw drops from the door and it sinks to the ground. Sam picks it back up, untying the bag and slipping it inside. He steps through the doorway and into another cave. 

The smell of mold passes by him as he walks into the cavern. Bats fly overhead. And at the end of it all a crumbling structure. Whispers echo in the cavern. The words the Draugr spoke to him but only one catches his eye.

_Fus_

He couldn't tell you how long it took him to get up to the word. To touch it. But he can tell you how loud the crack of a tomb lid being thrown is. He shrinks as a draugr in a horned helmet pushes himself out of the coffin. Its eyes glow bright blue with dabs of red. Its face sunken, rotten teeth only barely covered by a thin beard. It stares at him.

" _Dovah..."_

Sam remains frozen as the draugr lay back down but not before dropping a stone tablet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Kulaan - Prince
> 
> Sizaan Kulaan do fin Lok - Lost Prince of the Sky
> 
> Fus - Force
> 
> Dovah - Dragon (singular)


	5. Memories

CHAPTER FIVE: MEMORIES

Sam kneels down, picking up the tablet. It's a map. With specific markings all over Skyrim. He places it in the bag, ties the bag to his side, and stands back up. He can read all the scratching on the stone. 

_Here lies the guardian_

_Keeper of dragonstone_

_And a force of unending_

_Rage and darkness_

A warrior he never got the chance to meet. 

Sam shakes himself. 

They're just weird dreams. Weird dreams that have always been with him.

He pinches his wrist and looks back at the wall. 

He can still read it. 

He turns away following a crumbling stairway to a hidden door. A chain sits to the right and he pulls it. The stone sinks. 

_"Dreh ni qahnaar Dez, Dovahkiin."_

Sam bolts as the Guardian's voice echoes through the hall. Next thing he knows he's on the ground. 

A ledge. He ran off a ledge. He scrambles back up and keeps running, stopping at the exit. The sunlight is fading. Good. He slowly steps out, running for the trees as he does so. A shadow passes over him and for just a split second he waits for the flames. They never come. He looks around, finding Alduin flying above something. Something that is not him.

" _Bo nu, Zeymah!_ "

Sam blinks and runs through the trees, up the mountain closer to the Dragon. He stops short, paling as a second dragon slides out of a cave in the mountainside. His wings crack as he extends them, eyes peeling open. He knows that dragon. Grey and gold. Mirmulnir.

_"Alduin..."_

_"Mirmulnir."_

_"Los nii tiid?"_

" _Geh. Aan Nikriin rovaan. Siiv rok. Zu'u fen_ _bo_." Alduin takes off, leaving the dragon. 

"Alduin says you are close..." the Dragon grumbles, stepping further out of his cave. 

Sam presses himself against a tree.

The dragon walks past him. Sam slowly inches to the other side of the tree trunk before taking off. He weaves through bushes and trees, eyes on a tower in the distance. He can hide there. 

He glances up at the sound of wind, staring at the dragon. One eye is on him. Oh, Gods.

“You will not escape, me, Joor!” The Dragon dives. Sam keeps running. That’s all he can do at this point. He slows as he nears a drop-off. He can’t stop. If he stops Mirmulnir will catch him. He needs stronger skin. 

Stronger skin! Blue light beats in his hands as the magic snakes over his body. He jumps just as Mirmulnir’s claws rip through the earth. Sam tucks his head in between his knees, hands covering his neck as he slams into the undergrowth and starts rolling until he hits a tree. His head spins as he unravels himself and stands up, leaning on the tree. 

Little nicks and cuts cover any skin that was exposed while he was rolling. At some point, the cloak ripped off. But. He managed to keep a grip on the bag. Vomit rises to his mouth. 

“Clever…” The Dragon beats his wings, moving the trees and leaves, showing him exactly where Sam is.

Sam swallows the vomit and keeps running. He’ll run out of trees soon. Not that they’ve been a major help. 

Just get to the tower. The Dragon can’t get him in the tower. 

Sam takes one more breath before leaving the last of the trees and meeting the golden, green, grasslands of Whiterun Hold. Mirmulnir lets loose white flames. Sam barely outruns it, bolting up the stone steps of the tower, throwing the door shut behind him. He sinks to the floor, gulping down air as his throat burns. 

A hand touches his shoulder and he shoots backward, clumsily ripping his sword from his side. At the tip of it is a guard with the seal of Whiterun on his chest. Sam pales. He thought it was abandoned.

"...someone chasing you?"

He hears the tail end of the sentence, but before he can get a word out, the tower shakes. 

"You hide like a mouse from a hawk!" 

A second guard skids to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. He's as pale as Sam.

"Glosi?"

"It's a dragon…" 

"Now is no time for your-"

"I'm not joking, Hal!" Glosi's shout echoes in each of their heads. Hal stares at him, eyes moving back to Sam.

"Is it…?"

Sam nods. 

"Alduin says you must die, Joor! This tower helps nothing!"

"Help will come. They'll see the dragon from Whiterun. Irileth and more guards will come. Battlemages. All we have to do is stay in the-" the wall caves in as a spiked tail rams through the stone, burying both the men in stone. Sam stares at the pile. 

Then the tower creaks. Sways a bit. Sam scrambles up, pulling open the door and throwing himself out of it and the tower collapses. He slowly sits up, hacking dust and dirt out of his lungs. He peels open his eyes, coming face to face with the dragon. Mirmulnir crawls over the stone bricks, toward Sam. Sam tries to move, but the Dragon slams his claws down on him. 

Sam closes his eyes as the dragon opens its jaws. Instead of flames, he hears the whizzing of an arrow. He opens his eyes just in time to watch the world turn to a blur before vanishing just as quickly. 

Through the darkness, green leaks through until he is staring at other dragons scattered around a valley. In the grass. The rocks. Cliffs. Even water. They all look similar but different. One was glaring at him with four others around him, doing the same. He shrinks slightly. 

"This is the last of you. Saansilkiin."

He was smaller than the rest. They all knew what his name meant. Lost. Soul. Born. It was more confusing than the others. Not straight forward and descriptive. How could one just created be lost?

"Kid? Wake up!"

The green land fades. Sam opens his eyes, his head spinning like mad. A guard is knelt next to him. 

"Thank the gods…" the guard mutters. Oh… it's raining now. Sam's eyes slowly focus on Mirmulnir. On the ground. With soldiers and guards surrounding him. Sam sits up as a dark elf raises her sword. 

No.

"No nononono, STOP!" Sam launches forward, forcing his legs to work as he lunges at the dark elf, grabbing her sword from her before she can give the final blow to the dragon. The elf stumbles back. The battlefield is frozen. He drops the sword, staring at the dull cuts on his palms for a moment. He looks at the dragon, half dead.

"Mirmulnir..." he drops to his knees in front of Mirmulnir's head. The Dragon's eyes widen.

"Saansilkiin-" Mirmulnir's voice breaks as a sword cuts clean through his neck. Sam's eyes shoot up to the lone soldier who had enough courage. His body feels like it's burning as white light surrounds him. A soul. He can feel it just slightly and just for a moment. Mirmulnir's soul.

"Get him, now!" The dark elf shouts at her guards. None of them move. 

"He's Dragonborn, he has to be."

"He took its soul..."

"It spoke to him. Sounded like a name."

"Saan... Saan something."

Sam lunges at the soldier, knocking him down into the dirt. He forms a dagger in his hand, pressing it to the man's neck. White fury blinds him and slowly three words drift into his mind. 

_Yol._

_Toor._

_Shul._

The thought of them alone brings sparks to his breath. Until someone pulls him off. 

" _Rok lost dinok_!" The words are harsh on his tongue and directed at the terrified man who pales further hearing the speech of dragons come from a 15-year-old. 

" _DOVAHKIIN_!" The word shakes pebbles and ripples the water. Whoever grabbed him let go.

"He has to be- he has to be Dragonborn."

"Why now? What does this mean- HEY!"

Sam bolts toward the mountains, dry grass cutting him as he does. He feels dizzy. Are his hands still bleeding…? Why does his head hurt so much…? 

He blinks as a small stream of blood drips off his brow ridge. 

He blinks again as another drop falls, skimming his eyelashes, and landing on his cheek. Can he still feel his legs? No… not really… 

He collapses as a final drop of blood falls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dreh ni qahnaar Dez, Dovahkiin - Do not deny fate, Dragonborn
> 
> Bo nu, Zeymah - Fly now, Brother
> 
> Los nii tiid - Is it time
> 
> Geh. Aan Nikriin rovaan. Siiv rok. Zu'u fen bo - Yes. A coward roams. Find him. I'll go
> 
> Yol Toor Shul - Fire Inferno Sun
> 
> Rok lost dinok - He had ended


	6. Charms and Corners

CHAPTER SIX: CHARMS AND CORNERS

He had always felt safe in corners. No one to sneak up on you from behind. People tend to skim over corners when they look around. And they usually stayed dark. 

But he didn't feel very safe at the moment. Not with a self-cast lip sealing charm and yet another door of iron bars locking him away. At least he was able to close a few more open wounds. 

He's in Whiterun, that much he knows. The horse on the Guards armor was identification enough. He'd met the Jarl once before. Balgruuf. Three years ago. Before… before Skyrim changed. 

He was kind. He has his own children and that fact alone had made Sam just the slightest bit more comfortable around him. Even if his children weren't the… kindest to Sam. 

"Has he said anything yet?" 

Sam lifts his head slightly at a familiar voice. The dark elf from before. 

"No."

"Hm. And the guard is positive he spoke to the dragon?" That's a new voice. 

"Yes."

"The Jarl will be here momentarily… Since I'm researching the dragons I thought I might talk with him. Maybe he can translate a few things I have."

"You'd have to bring them down here. Open the door."

Sam watches for steel boots. Instead, he sees boots and the end of a blue robe. They walk toward him, crouching down. A mage. Sam stares at him as the Mage looks up and down.

"You're _positive_ he spoke with a dragon?"

"Yes." The dark elf stands at the door. 

"He's probably too scared to talk to you, Farengar. He only woke up a few hours ago." Sam looks past the mage as a guard stop at the door. The guard catches his eyes for just a moment before his eyes dart away. 

"He spoke to a dragon, speaking to me should be nothing." Farengar's eyes fall on one minor detail, fresh blood under Sam's nails, but no open wounds. "I think he knows magic." 

"Lots of people do."

"Have any of you seen him cast anything?" Farengar stands and walks to the door.

"I saw a healing spell when he woke up. Only for a few minutes."

"There was that blue light just before that." Another voice chimes in from farther away. 

"I thought that was just the healing spell."

Farengar looks back at Sam, "He sealed his lips."

"Figuratively?"

"No, no, he used a spell on himself. It forces the person it was cast on to lose their ability to speak until the caster takes it off. Clever."

"So he won't speak."

"No." 

"Irileth?"

"Jarl Balgruuf." The elf moves to the side slightly and the mage stands. 

"What happened?"

"When the tower was attacked last night, he was there. We managed to would the dragon enough that it was forced to land. He had been unconscious, but woke up and stopped me as I was about to finish the dragon off. They… they spoke to each other. Momentarily. Then the dragon was finished off and he attacked the guard who did it."

Sam puts his head in between his knees, muffling out her voice as she keeps talking. He can feel the Mage's eyes. His own are focused on the ground. Another pair of boots walks into the cell along with steel ones. The mage steps to the side. The new boots stop a few feet in front of him. 

"Who are you?" The Jarl's voice is muffled but close enough to be clear-ish. 

"He won't answer."

"And why not?"

"He's cast a sealing charm on himself. He cant speak until he takes it off."

"My Jarl, don't you think it's not entirely safe to be around someone like him…?"

"Do you remember what he said to the dragon?"

"A name, according to the guard. I assume the Dragon's name."

"Has anyone tried to speak to him?"

"No. Not until Farengar a few moments ago."

"Do we know anything about him? Is he from the city?"

"No one has lost a child, my Jarl."

Sam tenses as Balgruuf crouches down. "You're safe here, Lad." 

Sam stays still. The Jarl sighs and stands back up, turning away. Sam forces his head up. 

"Make sure-"

"Balgruuf." Irileth is staring at him. The mark on his face she thought was a burn from the dragon is still there. 

Balgruuf turns back around. His eyes widen. It takes him far too long to find the name he's looking for. "Samson?"

Sam glances through the people. A man at the door looks like he's about to faint. 

"Samson… Ulfric's boy?"

"If Ulfric finds out, he'll attack. Oh, gods." 

"Hold yourself, Proventus."

"What are- Why were you at the watchtower?" Balgruuf waits for an answer. An answer he does deserve. Farengar takes a step closer as Sam places a hand on his throat, pulling away a blue light. Sam clears his throat. 

"I was running from Mir- The Dragon." 

"Why aren't you in Windhelm?"

Sam looks down. He won't answer that. 

"Is Ulfric going to attack us?"

Sam shakes his head. A collective sigh of relief runs through the cell. 

"Why were you running from the dragon?" Farengar takes another step closer. "Why would he focus on you."

Sam glances up at him, "... He was told too." 

"Nobody can control a dragon." The mage scoffs. 

"Another dragon could." 

"We've only seen one and it's gone."

" _You've_ only seen one."

"And you've seen more-"

"Farengar, I know you're researching Dragons right now. But now is not the time." Balgruuf turns away from both of them. "Proventus, have a room prepared. Any belongings Sam had with him, put them there. I'll set up an escort to take Sam back to Windhelm in three days' time. Irileth."

"Yes?"

"The men who killed the dragon with you, bring them up here."

"Of course." The elf turns and leaves."

"Jarl Balgruuf, I have a few texts that if translated, could help me find the source of the dragons' return." The Mage glances between the two. 

"How is Sam going to help you with that?"

"The guards and Irileth witnesses him speak to the dragon."

Balgruuf is quiet for a moment. "Later. Sam, come with me." 

Sam stands, glancing at the Mage as he follows Balgruuf out of the prison and up into the main hall. It's virtually empty except for the guards. Balgruuf leads him up a staircase and into a massive room, shutting the door behind them.

"Will you tell me why you're here now?" Balgruuf turns to him. Sam looks at him for a moment before looking at the ground. 

"I convinced Ulfric to let me take a letter to Dawnstar. General Tullius and a small caravan of soldiers ambushed me. I almost got away but a bear tried to attack me when I was running and they caught up to me."

"There's a camp near Dawnstar. Why did you end up here?"

"They took me to Helgan. Then it was attacked."

"And destroyed. By a dragon."

"It wasn't Mir-" Sam cuts himself off. 

"Why did you try and stop Irileth?"

"It was my fault. I thought the tower was abandoned. I was. I was going to try and stop him." 

"How?" 

A knock saves Sam from having to answer. Proventus opens the door. 

"The room is prepared. I also asked for a bath to be prepared."

"Thank you, Proventus. Sam, why don't you go with him. We'll talk more later."

Sam nods turning away from him and to the door. The Steward opens it more. Once Sam is out and he shuts the door, they walk through another hall and into a room. A bath sits in the corner. 

"When the Jarl is ready to speak again, I will come and get you." Proventus leaves, shutting the door. Sam looks at it as the lock clicks. Locked in. Grand. Sam sighs and walks to the center of the room. He turns slowly. The bath. Windows. A bed. A chest. A bookshelf. Another bookshelf. A table. And the bag. 

He walks over to it, pulling it open. The tablet is still there as well as the claw and all the food. Though. Its pulp and mush. He ties the bag shut again. He'll take care of that later. 

Who knows how long he'll be in here. Not too long. Hopefully. He walks over to the bath, placing a hand in the water. It doesn't feel like anything. He might've let it sit too long, but that's okay. 

The shirt and pants are practically tatters and a small amount of guilt settles in his stomach as he pulls the clothes off. Nothing he can do now. Nor anything he could have done earlier either… but still. He steps into the bath, a few minor cuts stinging as he does so. Guess the water was warmer than he thought. 

But it still feels nice. 

After a few moments, he dunks his head under, working out blood left from a gash he doesn't quite remember getting. After a few more minutes he climbs back out, staring at the now rust-colored water. Huh. That's nice to have off. 

He looks around before finding a set of clothes on the bed. He pulls them on before looking back at the bag. He could wash off the claw and tablet in the water… he probably should. He walks over, opening it, and pulling out to the two items before stepping back over to the bath. He plunges both in the water, swirling them around before pulling them out. 

Good as new. Or as new as two artifacts can get. 

Sam looks around. He should hide these. Where. He glances around, eyes falling on the bookshelves. The books are brought forward, leaving a gap between the back panel and the books. Perfect. 

He pulls out a handful of books, placing the claw and tablet against the panel. Sliding the books back into place, his stops at the last. 

The book of the Dragonborn. He hadn't seen a copy since he was 6. He thumbs through the pages of the book, skimming the words until he finds the Prophecy. 

"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world. When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped. When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles. When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls. When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding. The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn." Sam stares at the last line before slamming the book shut and shoving it back onto the shelf. He walks to the other side of the room, staring out one of the windows. 

Fuck. 

What the fuck is going on. 

FUCK. 

His foot starts tapping. This eventually transforms into pacing back and forth. 

Why is he having these dreams again? Why? They stopped years ago. Years! 

He slows to a stop. 

They don't feel like dreams as much this time. The last time it was just the island. 

Island.

Of course, it had to be an island, the lizards. The lizards that puff smoke just like... He must have read about them at some point. Even though… even though he had that dream before he could read well. 

Alduin. Alduin. He's known that name for so long. But Mirmulnir… 

Sam shakes his head as the lock clicks. 

The door opens and Proventus stands in the doorway. Sam walks to the door, following him out of the room and down a staircase. The table in the center is nearly full. One seat is left among the guards. He vaguely recognizes them all but his eyes lock on one in particular. 

The one who killed Mirmulnir. 

He doesn't look particularly happy to be here. A tad drunk too based on the redness of his face. A small flare of fear does pop up in his eyes when he looks at Sam though. 

Sam looks away, sitting in the only empty seat. He glances around, noting Farengar and someone in a hood standing next to him. The hooded figure whispers something to Farengar before facing Sam again. Sam looks at the table.

Who is that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No translations.
> 
> these are the lizards, marine iguanas, they're one of my favorites; https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/reptiles/m/marine-iguana/ the smoke is actually salt :) they're good lizards and Darwin can suck a dick for calling them hideous. he has no taste.


	7. Old Habits of A Small Spitfire

CHAPTER SEVEN: OLD HABITS OF A SMALL SPITFIRE 

Who is that? 

They feel familiar? 

"Sam?"

Sam's eyes snap away from the person and over to Balgruuf. 

"Are you okay?"

Sam nods. 

"Okay then. You all remember what happened?" He looks back at the guards sitting at the table. Each nods. "Irileth, who got there the fastest?"

"Jalon did. He was the first to check on Samson as well." Irileth looks at a younger guard. 

"Jalon, what happened?" 

"We saw the dragon attack the tower. We had no idea Samson was there until I was extremely close to the tower and saw the Dragon had him pinned down. When the Dragon saw us and moved, Samson was thrown into the rumble. I pulled him out while the others began attacking the dragon. He was unconscious. He woke up and immediately stopped Irileth, said what I assume to be the dragon's name-"

"Mirmulnir." Sam stares at him. 

"I- yes. And the dragon responded with another name before Sinig finished off the beast. Samson absorbed the dragon's soul and then he jumped on him and Tolar and Aler pulled him off. He spoke in the tongue of the Dragons then the Greybeard's called out and Samson started running. He got more than halfway to the forest before he collapsed. We brought him back here."

Sam looks back at the mage and hooded person as they lean over to Farengar and whisper again. 

"What was the other name?" Farengar looks between Sam and the guards. The name echoes in Sam's mind. 

Saansilkiin. 

"Saan something."

The person whispers again. 

"Saansilkiin?" Farengar says the name. Sam feels like a troll has his guts in its fist before yanking them out all at once. He digs his nails into his palms. 

"Sam? Is that what the dragon said?"

"Yes." He forces out the word, staring at the person. How did they know the name? 

"He has to be a Dragonborn." Another guard speaks up. "Besides the soul, when he had Sinig on the ground, sparks were coming out of his mouth. Then he spoke in their tongue, and the Greybeard's called for him." 

"I agree with Strig. It wasn't any of us."

"You all feel this way?"

A collective nod runs across the table. Sam looks at the only one who didn't. Irileth. Balgruuf follows his look. 

"Irileth?"

"I know only of Dragonborns through the Septim line and last I checked that line died when Maros Septim fled 200 years ago and never returned."

"A Dragonborn like him isn't just passed by blood, miss." Jalon draws their attention back. "His soul was created by Akatosh and placed here. Have none of you read the prophecy of the Last Dragonborn?"

"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world. When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped. When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles. When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls. When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding.  _ Fin Lein-Naak bo, ahrk fin lein meyz nau fin laat Dovahkiin _ ." Sam glances around as the men stare at him. Oh. He did it again. He bites his tongue.

"The World-Eater must have woken. He's here. Alduin. Come to destroy that which was taken from him."

"How do we know he's back?"

"A dragon attacked Helgan! Maybe it was him!"

It was. And that guilt was now forcing its way back up Sam's throat. 

"And if it was the one we killed?" 

"There have been rumors of dragons surviving the purge. Maybe a rogue one finally drove itself mad like Numinex did!"

Numinex? No. Numunnax. What happened to Numunnax? If he was killed, his soul would have returned to Akatosh. He must be with him. Right? That's where Sam was for… for so long. 

"We killed one dragon, with the Dragonborn, we can kill the rest!"

No. No Nonono, no more killing…! Sam presses his hands to his ears as the men shout back and forth, offering different ways they could drag a dragon to the dirt. 

"... Shoot its chest!"

"... Its eyes!"

"... Shred its wings!"

" _ HI FIN NEH _ !" Sam slams his fists on the oak table, shaking the hall, and silencing the men. "I warn you now.  _ Touch _ one of my brothers and you will know the end faster than Alduin could ever give it to you." His breath is heavy as he stares at the men. 

None reply. Not even Balgruuf can think of a word. 

" _ DOVAHKIIN, MU SARAAN!"  _ The hall shakes for a second time. 

Sam can't feel his body move, but he does and further rage flows through him as he sees the dragon skull hanging above the throne.  _ Numunnax _ . 

He watched it happen. He  _ begged _ Bormahu to stop that cruel, lying, traitor, of a nord.

Trapped. Here. In this palace. 

Sam turns again, running up the stairs. He rips open double doors, staring at a giant trap meant to pin one to the stone. Numunnax. Stuck here for so long. A pet.  _ A pet _ . To one who  _ changed  _ his name. He walks out onto the balcony, staring at the chains. And on one side a metal  _ muzzle _ sits, hanging on the wall like a trophy. 

How long was he trap here…? 

_ How could he have felt any pity for these traitorous nords? _

_ How _ … how could he have abandoned them like this…? 

Sam sinks to his knees. 

He abandoned them. 

All because he was afraid. 

Afraid. 

"Oh,  _ Zeymah _ …" his hands press against the stone. "I am so sorry…" Warm wind blows through the balcony, pushing Sam's hair away from his face. Wind… always a comfort… 

Sam looks up at a touch, a hand on his shoulder. Balgruuf. No one else. The doors are shut. The man sits next to him. 

"The Greybeards are calling you." 

"I hear them." 

"Will you go?"

"Do you know where the rest of him is?"

"Who?"

"Numun- Numinex."

"Yes. Olaf had his body buried in a mound. I have notes."

"If I go. Will you promise me that I can take his skull to his body?"

"Why?"

Sam does not respond. 

"I will."

"Thank you." 

"Come on. You must be starving and if you'll deal with Farengar, he still asks that you translate items for him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Fin Neh- You will never
> 
> Dovahkiin, Mu Saraan- Dragonborn, we wait
> 
> Numunnax- A few years back when i was looking for more info on Numinex and stumbled upon a threat with a theory on his name, this is the thread https://elderscrolls.fandom.com/wiki/Thread:301330 I have considered this a personal cannon for a few years now. The translation of the new name is "Now man is cruel" which falls in line with the assumption that dragon names are prophecy.


	8. Those Passed and What They Scratched

CHAPTER EIGHT: THOSE PASSED AND WHAT THEY SCRATCHED

"Thank you." Sam smiles at an older woman as she sets a plate of food on the table next to him. His smile fades as she moves away from him quickly. Farengar places a pile of texts next to him. 

"If you translate these."

Sam picks one up. "Is this from a word wall?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Noble Nord, remember these words of the Hoar-Father: a warrior fights his evil, but a king unleashes on his enemy.”

“That’s it?” Farengar takes it from him. 

“The walls are dedications to those who influenced the dragons or those just under the dragons during their rule. I thought that was common knowledge.”

“This one?” He pulls another from the pile handing it to Sam.

“On this sacred ground did Fredo sacrifice her life so that her many children could escape and someday vanquish her enemy.” He looks back up at the mage, grabbing bread off the plate.

"There is nothing of significance then."

"That's not true. These are people who existed. That is important. What were you expecting?" He rips off some of the bread. Good bread...

"More history of the dragons themselves… but…" Farengar glances from him to the papers, "what can you tell me?"

"I- only the things Ulfric taught me about them." 

"Then how did you know its name?"

"I heard Alduin say it." 

"What does it mean?" 

"Why would I tell you?"

"So you know it."

Sam bites his tongue. 

"What am I going to do with the name of a dead dragon." 

Oh. 

He won't come back now. 

Because of Sam. He's  _ gone _ . Forever. 

Oh, gods… 

"His name is Loyal Strong Hunter." Sam glances at the food before setting the mostly eaten bread back on the plate. Any hunger he did feel is gone now. 

"What about the other name? Saansilkiin?"

Sam's eyes move faster than he can stop them, making eye contact with the Mage. He looks back down. "Lost Soul Born." 

"Numinex?"

"That's not his name." Sam pulls his knees up to his chest. 

"That is what my texts say." Farengar turns to one bookcase.

"Your texts were written by the traitor who dragged him to the ground."

"Traitor?"

"Numunnax aided the Nords when they were fighting against Alduin. Without him and a few others, you wouldn't be alive and here right now." 

"Then what does Numinex mean?"

"It's a horrible way of spelling one eye."

"And Numunnax?"

"Now man is cruel."

"That's different from Mirmulnir."

"Because our names are prophecies in themselves."

"So he was always doomed to die at the hands of men?" Farengar picks up a quill and begins to write only to stop and looks back up. "Our?"

Shit. 

"I-I, names can determine the way people live, why wouldn't that apply across different things…?" 

"They do?"

"Yes." Sam looks back down at the transcripts. Farengar looks at him for a moment before turning away. Sam glances up at him. "Who was your friend?"

"Who?"

"The one in the hood."

"A colleague helping me research the dragons."

"Where did they learn the other name?"

"Saansilkiin? The name was written in a book they found in a tomb. According to it, it was one of the justifications for the Dragons taking over." He pulls a cracked book off the shelf, handing to Sam. Sam turns to a bookmarked page. 

_ When the question was raised by the Priests "Why now? Why not sooner?" The Dragon Alduin sighted one dragon. His name was Saansilkiin and he was slaughtered before Alduin could stop the men.  _

Sam stares at the book. 

_ Liar.  _

__ "Why?"

He killed me. Not humans or elves or Khajiit or Argonian. Him. 

"Hello?"

How low did he stoop for that? Fein sadness? Anger? Go to the four who venerated him even higher than he already is? Was. Is? 

"Samson?"

"I'm surprised Alduin would even speak to a human." Bitterness coats his words. "And he wouldn't have sent a dragon under him to answer the questions."

"Really?"

"He's an arrogant wyrm and the sooner he learns that the longer he'll live."

"And you know this how?"

"He did chase me up a mountainside." 

"Why did he chase you again?"

"Probably because I'm the only one who can kill him." Sam closes the book. He is the only one. He… Mirmulnir can't come back because of him. Alduin wouldn't be able to either. If he didn't bite Sam in half first. 

"Farengar. A word?"

"Of course." Farengar walks past Sam. Sam looks back in time to see the person again. This time he heard their voice. It sounds… familiar. Old, but familiar. He turns his ear to the doorway. 

"The tablet was not there."

"What?"

"There were dead bandits in the main hall and a few the farther down I went. The claw door was open. None of the Draugr even moved."

"So we don't have the tablet and there's a chance we'll never get it."

"There were prints in the dirt leading out. Whoever has it is out in Skyrim. I'll ask around to see if it's shown up on a market. I transcribed the word wall at the end."

"Thank you. Maybe…" His words quiet into whispers. Sam frowns. Farengar walks back in and the other walks past the door. Up the stairs. Hm. Farengar holds out the transcription. 

The guardian. 

"Here lies the guardian, keeper of Dragonstone, and a force of unending rage and darkness." 

"Have you ever heard of the Dragonstone?"

"No."

"It's a stone tablet that shows where each dragon killed was buried and sealed away."

What an uncreative name. Maybe that's for the better. A Priest could have ordered its creation… or maybe the Nords by themselves made it so they would know. 

"It was said to have been buried at Bleak Falls Barrow. Now it seems it's been stolen. I don't know how with this supposed guardian." 

"Maybe the magic's faded." Sam looks up at him. "Do you have anything else?"

"No. But thank you for revealing I was wasting my time on these." He watches Sam stand and walk out, looking over at the nearly untouched plate of food. 

Sam walks up the stairs, toward the room. He turns back around as his eyes catch a shadow. Whoever it is is gone before he turns. He frowns and walks the rest of the way. He pulls the door open and stares at the room. The bath is no longer there and its obvious someone had been searching through it. He shuts the door behind him, dragging a chair over, locking the door handle against the wood. 

He pulls the books out, finding the two items still hidden and safe. Good. Who knows who the mage is working with. Balgruff has remained neutral in the last few years. He hasn't welcomed any Imperials but he also hasn't deterred them away from the city. Could be an elf. Maybe they're still on about the blades and the dragons and the lost emperor. 

They didn't seem tall enough for an elf though…

Maybe he should leave. Now. Instead of later. Instead of tomorrow. He could probably sneak out. It can't be that hard, right? To just. Sneak out. 

He glances around again, stopping at a cloth on a dresser. That'll work. He picks up and places the claw and tablet on the cloth, tying the corners together. 

A weapon. He shouldn't leave without a weapon. Weapon… sword! Sam pulls a chair to one of the walls, standing and reaching up to a display. He pulls one of the swords out from behind an iron shield. Sword. Good enough steel sword. Maybe a little dull. Maybe… He runs his fingers over the blade, ripping it away as it slices into his skin. Nope. Not dull. 

Any gold at all could come in handy… He walks through the room pulling open every drawer and cupboard until he finds it; a bag of gold. He grabs it, half haphazardly counting the gold pieces. At least 40. Great. 

Now just a cloak. Dark. Easy to hide in. He sets the sword next to the bag and opens a wardrobe. Ha! Lucky day! Sam pulls the cloak off a hook and ties it around his neck. It’s too long… Sam sighs and crouches down, tying the corners in knots, effectively hemming the cloak without having to sew it. Now it’s good. 

He ties the sword to his belt and grabs the bag. 

Now. 

To escape somewhere for the first time.

Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> copied from the last chapter: Numunnax- A few years back when i was looking for more info on Numinex and stumbled upon a threat with a theory on his name, this is the thread https://elderscrolls.fandom.com/wiki/Thread:301330 I have considered this a personal cannon for a few years now. The translation of the new name is "Now man is cruel" which falls in line with the assumption that dragon names are prophecy.


	9. The Act of Fleeing and The Want of Freedom

CHAPTER NINE: THE ACT OF FLEEING AND THE WANT OF FREEDOM

He pulls open the door as slowly as possible, glancing down the hall. No lights move closer or further away. He slips out of the room and starts walking. In Windhelm there are a few exits… maybe Dragonsreach has them too. If not… a window close to the ground. 

Maybe the kitchen has one… 

He stops at the end of the hall, glancing around the corner. A guard is walking past the stairs… and out of view. Okay. Okay. He can do this. He walks out and down the stairs, ducking under the table as the guard turns toward him. Sam can see the bottom half of him, still standing, looking up toward the throne. Sam holds his breath, pushing the cloak against his mouth just in case. 

The guard continues toward the main door before turning to walk back up the hall and the stairs. Sam watches the hall to the kitchen for a moment before running out from under the table and into the hall, past the shut doors of servant's quarters and into the open frame of the empty kitchen. 

Door. There’s a door! Huh… that was not as hard as he expected it to be. He walks to the door, snatching a loaf of bread from a table and nearly places it in the bag. 

“THIEF! GUARDS! A THIEF!” 

Sam rips open the door and bolts out, sprinting around the rest of Dragonsreach and over the bridge. He barely dodges the guards running out and after him, jumping down the steps and into the city. He runs between two buildings, slipping into the lower district. When he reaches the wall, the guards are still shouting. People have left their homes, wondering what's happened and a small group of fairly… terrifying, warriors are walking the paths. 

Something about them brings even more uneasiness to Sam. But that doesn't matter. Sam climbs up the wall, dropping down on the other side. He stumbles as he lands, a small noise slipping out. 

"I swear I just saw someone…"

Sam bites the fabric of the cloak, pressing against the wall.

"I heard something."

"Whatever it was. It's not in the city anymore."

“What? You can’t smell that?”

“It is different.”

“It’s not a wolf, it’s not our problem.”

“Yeah…”

Sam slowly peels away from the stone, running down the hill Whiterun sits on. Passed farms and over a bridge. He stops in the trees, sinking to the ground against one. If he ever has to do that again… Gods… He’ll buy an invisibility spellbook and teach himself, damnitall.

He looks up at the mountain. The Greybeards live in High Hrothgar. The safest way up the mountain is the Seven Thousand Steps. Even those are dangerous though… And far away. Around the mountain. At the edge of Ivarstead. Theoretically, he could just follow the river. But the road follows it as well. The road that people will be traveling if word has spread far enough about Helgen. Of course… going the road through Helgen will be empty. And it has more trees since it’s in the mountains and not on the river.

But that takes him through Riverwood. 

He could go through now if he can get there fast enough. It’s dark. No one should be out. Especially not in a town with no walls. He slips out of the trees, staring upwards. His eyes follow the brightest star to one of the constellations. It’s past its midpoint. After midnight. Okay. He has time. He turns to the nearby road and starts walking as fast as he can. 

A wolf runs past him on the road, turning back to look at Sam. It growls shift to whines and it keeps running up the mountain. Sam is not going to question that. Wolves avoiding him is a good thing. He slows slightly as Riverwood comes into view. As does the person. Faregar’s friend. Walking toward Riverwood. Is that why? Did he see them when he left? He didn’t see many people. Or maybe he’s just paranoid. Being out in the open like this isn’t exactly comforting and if Alduin is near… he really doesn’t have a chance. 

The person walks right into the Inn when they hit Riverwood. Sam watches the door shut from a distance before walking into the village himself. He keeps his head down just in case. A few guards give him a small look as he stops in front of the closed gate, blocking off the road that will take him to Helgen. 

“You don’t want to go that way. Helgen’s been destroyed, haven’t you heard.”

Sam digs his nails into his palms, “I need to get to Falkreath.” He looks at a guard standing on the right of him.

“It isn’t safe at night.”

“It’s safe enough on the road.”

“Just open the gate, Alviid.” A guard standing on the walkway stares at Alviid. Alviid sighs before pushing the gate open enough for Sam to walk through. “It’s his hide, not yours.”

Sam walks out of the gate. He almost looks back when it shuts. No time for that. He keeps walking, mind easing as more and more trees appear. The road is not covered yet, but it is almost there. He just has to walk past Helgen. Then he’ll be in the trees. 

He stops as it comes into view. 

Alduin really did destroy it. 

The gate is swung open, blackened, and half falling off. Sam walks through it, standing in the ash and dirt. He glances around. Burnt corpses litter the ground. Some have burnt armor on. Others have nothing left. All these people… All these people died because of him. Because Alduin was hunting him. Ralof should have left him to die. 

Sam starts walking, eyes glued to the ground, carefully avoiding the corpses. 

“May Kyne guide you all…” His voice does not carry. He weaves through fallen buildings and stands at the other gate to the city. He takes a breath and walks out. The sky is lightening. The sun will be up soon. Sam glances off the road. The mountain has a small cut out about ten feet up. He can get up there. It would probably be a good idea to stop. Sleep for a bit then maybe try and find some food. He walks up to the mountain, tying the bag to his belt before scrambling up the rock. It’s grippy enough he can climb, luckily. He flops on the ledge, taking a breath as he does so. He pulls himself up, sitting against the rock. 

It’s been so long since he’d seen trees like this. Eastmarch holds only evergreens and any others were too far away for Sam to see. He doesn’t miss the snow exactly. It’s warm here. A soft warm. Nothing like the weather he’s grown used to. Ice and snow year-round. Slippery stone streets and a crumbling city. An old city. Very old. And very very unwelcoming. 

Argonians cannot live in the city and while Ulfric’s claims to Sam’s questions are that they are safer outside the walls and not in seem noble, Sam often wonders how noble they are. Same with the Snow Quarter. Sometimes he wonders if he’s the only one who calls it that anymore. Maybe Brunwulf still does. But he stopped talking to Ulfric years ago and by proxy, Sam. But Sam still kept many of his words with him. Words that Sam had used before to convince Ulfric to do something after Sam watched the guards pull in seven Dunmer in four days and no Nords. 

Sam was unsurprised to find it was Galmar’s brother. He’d always taken Galmar’s words with a block of salt. They never quite sat well with him and he slowly figured out why. 

They’re both pricks. 

Well… That’s a rude way to put it. 

They both refuse to think outside the walls of Windhelm. 

That’s kinder, isn’t it?

The few times Sam had gone down to the docks, the Argonians were always kind. They complain about the cold and the ice, but who doesn’t? Though… It does affect them more than others. And the Elves at the Quarter are the same! They’re kind! 

Sam only convinced Ulfric to give him a chance so he could step outside of Windhelm. Now he’s farther out than ever and it… It’s wonderful. He’s about the age that most boys tend to leave if they do at all… But that would probably never happen. Unless he just never went back. He is going to the Greybeards… Maybe they’ll want him to stay there as Ulfric did. 

Gods… What an awful thought… 

Leave the person who saved his life? With nothing but the idea that he’s dead because of one choice? Sam could… He couldn’t. He’d have to just do what he needs to do and go to Windhelm and explain this… stuff. Then he’d be on his way. Off into the world. Away from Windhelm. That is a good thought. Into Cyrodiil? Or maybe High Rock! Oh, the possibilities are endless. 

Sam leans against the rock closing his eyes. 

He should sleep while he still has some darkness. He’ll start walking again after. 


	10. Those Who Betray and Are Betrayed

CHAPTER TEN: THOSE WHO BETRAY AND ARE BETRAYED

A storm clashes overhead. It's blurry and he's cold, blood dripping from wounds and burns all across his body, his wings ripped to shreds. Half his spikes are broken and even they are bleeding.

"You will not be an issue any longer."

"Was I ever…?" Saansilkiin wheezes, good eye watching the blurry, black, shape flying about him. 

"No."

"Ah…"

Then the ground begins to shake. He can't move. He can't do anything as burning lava pours over him, dissolving what's left the soft flesh of his wings. Over more and more of his body. So hot it's cold. Until he can see no more. Hear no more. Feel no more. He is alone. Asleep. The way he enjoyed it…

Sam opens his eyes. 

Was… 

No. 

No, it couldn't have been. 

He places a hand on the stone, scraping his palm over it. 

He's not dreaming. Not anymore. He's awake. He's alive. And Alduin is not here. Not right now. Where he is… Sam can't wonder about that right now. Whatever he's doing, it's not trying to eat him and that's all that matters. 

But why is the sky getting darker? It should just be morning… Sam looks east and sees nothing but the moons in a dark sky peppered with stars. He slowly turns west. Its sunset. He slept all day. Oh. Guess he needed sleep more than he thought he did… 

Sam slides down the rock, landing on the dirt with a dull thud. If he walks fast and takes deer trails, he'll reach Ivarstead by midday. That's good. Sam glances through the forest, finding a small trail of dead plants, patted into the ground. Good. Gods… his eye and hands ache though… Whatever. It’ll go away soon. 

Sam walks along the path, looking around at the plants and trees as his light fades more and more. He could conjure a light… but that could become a target. Walking in the dark it is. Safer, anyway. As long as a bear doesn’t pop up out of nowhere. Or any Imperials. He keeps his eyes down, but still looking at least 6 feet ahead of himself. Gods know what’s on the forest floor. Traps or maybe even runes. The runes are less likely. 

It’s much quieter than Sam would have expected for the forest at night. Even the crickets stay silent and for a deer trail, there aren’t many deer. Which is especially strange for this area of Skyrim. From here further toward Falkreath, the forests are warmer and the deer stay. But a lack of deer usually means the wolves have followed. Unless they’re desperate enough to attack a human or elf. No… They’re smart enough to follow the deer. 

And that one… ran away from him. 

Why… It could be… 

No that’s stupid. Why would Mara ever look upon him for any reason? 

Gods have more important things to do. Much more important things. 

He stops as the trail turns sharply downward. He can see Ivarstead below him. He looks up. The Throat of the World. Clouds cloak the top of the mountain. 

“... so high up Dragonsreach looked like a toy…” 

He’ll find out if that’s true now. He starts walking again, taking small steps down the path. What else had Ulfric told him… 

The path up is dangerous. The stairs are old and crumbling and should be trusted little. The building at the top is just as old. The people there are scholars and care little for the plights of the outside world. The voice was a gift to them and they don’t abuse it. 

Sam would have liked to know them. 

He.

He would have liked to know them. 

As the few who aided them did. 

Is Paarthurnax still alive? Did he die long after everything? The Akaviri were the ones who killed most of them. The Blades. The old Blades at least. Sam would be surprised if any Blade is still alive. And if they are, they would never show themselves. They should be smart enough to know that. 

If Nummunax was betrayed, Paarthurnax likely was too. 

Anyone can betray anyone. 

Like… Like Ulfric did. 

Gods. 

Now is not the time to think about this. He’s already thought hours on hours on hours on it.

Besides he’s nearly at the village. He walks away from the deer path, finding the worn stone path that follows all through Skyrim and into the surrounding Provinces. Flowers line it. Off in the distance, he can see a tomb. He shudders. Please Gods let it never be necessary to go into one again. 

A guard nods at him as he steps onto a bridge leading into the town. He nods back. The town is quiet but walking shadows in the tavern draw Sam’s eyes. He walks up the creaking wood steps, pulling open the door. It’s chaos. Laughter and shitty song fill the place clear up to its ceiling and just over it, Sam can hear a sentence-

“Come up here or sit down if you need anything!”

He should eat something. It’s late and last he ate was bread. And only a few bites. He pushes his way through the people, seemingly everyone in town, stopping at the bar. 

“What can I get ya?”

“Just some food.”

“I’ve got bread and some salted meats. Fish or beef.”

“Fish, please.” Sam takes a wooden plate from the man. A half a loaf and whole fish sit with a gold apple. 

“5 septims.”

Sam reaches into the bag, digging out a handful of gold, counting 5 out in his hand. “Oh, is there a room available?”

“You’re in luck. We always have rooms available. 10 septims for the night.” The man takes the septims as Sam counts out 10 more. “Just that one right there. And don’t worry, the place’ll come down soon.”

“Thank you.” Sam carries the plate into the room, shutting the door behind him. He sets the plate down, pulling a key from the wall and locking the door. That’s nice. He sits on the bed, setting the plate on his lap. Salted salmon. This is usually a… mid-winter in Windhelm food, but it’s good food, nonetheless. He’ll go up the mountain in daylight. Anything lurking on the road will be less likely to attack in the day when Sam would have a better reaction than in the dark where one misstep would send him plummeting down the side of the mountain and to what would certainly be death. 

He picks apart the rehydrated fish. It’s saltier than he can remember, but that’s nothing to be worried about. Some people do more baths than others when prepping dried fish. The bread is soft and the apple is sweet and maybe just a tad overripe but still good. 

He sets the plate aside and pulls off his boots and the bag, sliding them under the bed before laying down.

The Greybeards are waiting, but they can wait 24 more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the few who read this actively, I cannot guarantee an update for two or more weeks. This is not my top priority and honestly not a priority at all. got university stuff.


	11. Upward in Kyne's Grace and Mara's Hope

CHAPTER ELEVEN: UPWARD IN KYNE’S GRACE AND MARA’S HOPE

Humans are strange. 

Saansilkiin watched the small village from above. It sat in a valley. A valley was a double edge sword. One reason sat that it was hidden and safe. But the elves lining the edges spoke otherwise. A valley was its own trap. A snake who forgot how to retract its own fangs and now must sit still with its mouth open wide. 

His eyes fall on one elf who draws a bow. 

He did not understand this. The elves never came to this valley before. It was full of large animals with long fangs and claws. The humans defeated them. Took their skin and made warm cloaks and built up their homes from the trees of the valley. 

Before the elf could let loose his arrow, Saansilkiin flared his wings and roared, pulling all eyes to him. The arrow lodged into a tree. 

One human yelled, but their eyes were not on the elves. The elves fled into the trees. The humans picked up their weapons and ran toward Saansilkiin. Clambering up the mountainside 

Oh yeah. 

Saansilkiin takes off, flying away but not before one arrow cuts into his tail. He lands miles off from the settlement, pulling his tail to his feet and carefully pulling out the arrow. The small wound barely even bleeds. 

"Mal joor…"

Sam opens his eyes. He sits up, a small sharp pain stinging in his lower back. He stands up, back cracking as he reaches upwards. Stiff night, apparently. He takes a moment, wondering if that settlement is still there? What became of it? Did Alduin destroy it? Or did the elves get to it? Where even was it? Closer to Cyrodiil, wasn’t it? No… it was too snowy for that. Maybe someone else would know…

Besides the point. He pulls his boots and bag from under the bed and puts them back on. He holds the bag for a moment. Maybe the trader here would have an actual bag. That he could wear. For hopefully not a grand sum. He grabs the key and unlocks the door before hanging it back up. The inn is still and light barely shines through the windows. It’s early. Sam walks out, stopping to look at the sky. It’s pink and cloudy. He can smell the dampness of the air and hear the river more than anything else, moss and mud. The guards are switching off, the ones who’ve been out most of the night walking to the barracks and the others taking their places. Sam walks onto the dirt road and over to the trader. He pushes open the door, glancing around. No one at the counter or otherwise. 

Sam steps over to a table with a leather bag on it. He picks it up, lifting up the flap and looking inside. 

“Travelling somewhere?”

Sam drops the bag, turning around. Oh. Just the shopkeep. “Yes. Up the mountain.”

“Hmm. The bag is 70 septims,” He glances Sam up and down, “You don’t look very prepared to go up the mountain.”

“I’m as ready as I could be.”

“Well, if you’re serious about it, I’ll give you the bag for 50 and give you some food and bandages if you talk to Klimmek and take the food he takes up to the Greybeards up there yourself.”

“Okay.” Sam nods, “Where is he?”

“He’ll be out at the river. Likes to fish in the morning. Tell him Raili sent you.” He picks up the bag and walks to the counter, placing some food inside. Sam digs out 50 gold and waits until he can hand it to Raili. Once he does he takes the bag and waits as Raili counts the coins. 

One too many. Sam takes the extra coin and the bag and walks out, crouching down to move the items from the smaller bag into the backpack, folding up the smaller bag and sliding it in a smaller pocket in the bag. He stands back up, swinging the bag over his shoulder. 

He steps down onto the road and follows it to the river, looking up it, just past the trees. Klimmek. Fishing just like Raili said he would be. He walks along the edge of the river, mud squelching underfoot as he does so. Klimmek looks up at the sound. 

"Hello."

"Raili asked me to take supplies up the mountain for you."

"You?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." He pulls the line in, jamming the end of his pole deep in the mud before standing. "Come on." He walks up to a house. Sam follows him but waits outside of the home. Klimmek comes back out with a bag in hand. He holds it out and Sam takes it. 

"Be careful. Wolves are all over up there. When you reach the top, just put the bag in the chest. Can't miss it." 

Sam nods and throws the bag over his shoulder. He turns and walks to the bridge, looking up the mountain. Through the clouds above, something movies. Sam squints at it. Not black. Not Alduin. Thank Mara. Is… did he raise another dragon? Is one up there? Waiting for him? He could try to reason with it. Mirmulnir recognized him. Another could as well. 

The shape does not show itself again. He hesitantly walks over the bridge and takes the first step. The stone is crumbling and worn, littered with dirt and leaves. And it's steep. He digs his heels into the dirt every chance he gets, keeping a hand on the stone wall next to him. 

He stops as a wolf crosses the road ahead of him. It doesn't even look at him. Good. The steps get progressively more worn and snowy. His breath puffs out in small clouds, getting denser the farther up me goes. He keeps one eye on the sky. The shape has not returned. Maybe it was his own paranoia. One dark cloud among soft, kind, ones. He rounds a corner and freezes. 

A group of three wolves and a bear gathered at a fallen troll, trampled snow stained an array of red. The four animals look up. And return to their meal. Oh. Okay. Okay. He starts walking again, progressively getting faster until the animals are no longer in sight. He takes a breath and looks ahead of him. Upwards. 

It feels so familiar. 

The mountain. 

But that. That not as much. 

He stops as the base of less worn steps.

High Hrothgar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First update in a month... I'm moving out in five days, so it may be another few weeks before another update.


	12. Walking in the Footsteps of the Dead

CHAPTER TWELVE: WALKING IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE DEAD

  
  


Its walls are icy and covered in wind packed snow. Its steps are still rough. Not many walk on them. 

He walks up to the chest, pushing the lid up and dropping the bag of food inside. He lets the lid drop, staring at it as it echoes through the mountain. His eyes slowly drift upward to the mountain as a soft cracking replaces the loud echo. 

Oh, gods. 

He bolts up the stairs as snow slides down from the top of the mountain, ripping open the door and throwing himself inside and slamming it shut before a wall of snow hits the steps. He rolls over onto his back, gulping as much air down as he can. Eventually, he sits up, looking around the dark, empty, hall. He looks over at a black window. The snow’s blocked it.

He pushes himself up and stumbles over to the door, pushing at it. It doesn’t budge.

Great.

He turns back to the hall. 

“Hello?!” He waits for anything other than his own echo. Nothing. No footsteps. 

Did they all die? 

Oh gods, what if they're all dead? 

He walks past old carvings and pushes open another door. Wind stings his eyes as he looks upon a courtyard. He walks out into the snow, looking around. A massive pile sits over a 1/4th of the building and part of the courtyard. Oops… Well… Not much he can do about it now...

He looks back at the door. Is no one home? They're not supposed to leave! 

He turns and walks back into the building. Great. Great. Great. What now? This was the only plan. The only one. It was this or trudge back over to Windhelm and pray to the gods that if no dragon got him, Ulfric wouldn't either. 

He turns back to the door, pushing it open again and walking back out into the snow. He looks upwards. The mountaintop. 

He looks over at a sinking sun, faced away from the mountain. 

"You've kind of shoved me into a dark room with a hay covered floor and asked me to find a pin, you know!" 

The sun does nothing, of course. 

Sam straightens. "Then I'll just go to someone who talks - _sort of talks_ \- more than you!" He looks across the courtyard at one gate. Gate. The wind looks awfully strange… hmm. That won't stop him. He starts walking, stomping through the snow. He stops at the gate pulling his sword out and sticking it into the wind. Ice creeps down the blade. Grand. He pulls it back. 

He stares at it. 

Words words words… words. 

Lok Vah Koor. 

He takes a breath before stepping back and letting it out. 

He hasn't done that yet. 

What… what if his throat isn't… what if _he_ isn't strong enough. Speaking isn't the same… as, as yelling. Even just. Normal. Talking. So what if. What if this. Ends everything. Right here. 

He stands for a bit. Snow beginning to swirl around him. 

He'll die if he does or doesn't right now. Alduin will find him or he'll bleed out through his throat from shouting. Or choking on his own blood. Or get buried in an avalanche. If there’s enough snow to cause another one. 

He shudders. But takes a step forward and takes a few deep breaths, “ _Lok Vah KOOR_!” He stumbles, slipping and falling, staring as the deadly wind clears immediately. He puts his hands on his neck, fingers moving up to pull open his mouth. No blood. Thank the gods. He pushes himself up and starts walking, hesitating slightly. No soft cracking from the snow. He pulls this sword back out and sticks it out in front of him. No frost. Okay. Okay. 

He pushes forward, stepping off the stone and onto a frozen trail. The trail gets narrower the higher up he goes. He glances over the side, stomach-turning at the sheer drop just to the left of him. A gust of wind pushes downward. Sam throws himself against the mountain, hands trembling as he sifts through the snow for something- anything, to grab onto. He finds something, sharp and ridged, and pulls his hand away, blood dripping from a deep cut in his palm. He looks back and throws himself back onto the trail. 

A dragon skull with flesh still frozen on it. He gulps down air. Dead. It’s dead. He presses his palm into the snow fumbling with his bag and pulling out bandages. It stings as he pulls it out of the snow and wraps the bandages as tightly as he can. 

He slowly stands, keeping his eyes right ahead of him and keeps walking. 

He must have died that night. When they tried to kill Alduin. How many others are buried beneath the snow? How… How many? How many were killed that night?

He stops at the sight of a word wall. Broken. No words can be made out. He walks closer to it, stopping as the squelching of the snow stops. He looks down. He’s standing in one giant footprint. 

Oh. 

Please let this not be who he thinks it could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lok Vah Koor - Sky Spring Summer


	13. I Estranged Myself and It Only Made Two of You Happy?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: I ESTRANGED MYSELF AND IT ONLY MADE TWO OF YOU HAPPY?

Oh. 

Please let this not be who he thinks it could be.

Please let it not be Alduin.

Sam steps backward, out of the footprint, tripping on what feels like a rock, but he sincerely doubts it is. He freezes as a shadow passes over him. Snow swirls around him as the wind hits the ground. The shadow lands on the broken word wall. Sam lets out a breath of relief that turns into a shudder. 

“ _Paarthurnax…_ ”

“ _Drem Yol Lok, Saansilkiin, fin tiid lost bo_.”

Sam shuffles backward, hitting a stone and pressing himself against it. The icy cold burns through the cloak. The dragon lays down in the snow, moving his head closer. Sam fumbles with his sword, shakily holding it between them. The dragon pulls back slightly and sighs. 

"When did you lose your curiosity, _Zeymah_?" 

Sam swallows, lowering the sword slightly. 

"I understand this. Last you saw me. I was not how I am now. I was dipping into the power Alduin had offered. I was warned long ago that when you returned, you may not remember everything and may not know all that happened from the time of your death forward. But if you could tell me what you know, I can help." 

Sam glances past the dragon. This is a risk. It could be a trick. He looks Paarthurnax in one of his massive eyes. "So… so you. You did help them. In defeating _him_?" 

" _Geh. Het ahst fin Strunmah._ " 

"And you've. Stayed here. Ever since?" 

"Yes." 

"You know he killed me?"

"You say that as if you yourself do not know." 

"I don't trust my dreams." 

"Trust them. They are not figmentations." 

"How do I know that?" His voice catches in his throat. Paarthurnax moves closer. 

" _Bormahu_ has never lied to you." 

"I don’t know that!" His eyes sting. 

"You don’t?" 

"How could I! He could be making up every memory that has been revealed to me!" 

"For example?" 

"The island." His voice cracks.

"I have seen the remains of you there. You lived on that island for a great deal of time." 

"The village in the valley." He tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Paarthurnax blinks for a moment. 

"I believe it was destroyed by the elves. Is that all you've remembered?" 

“Numunnax.” 

“Numunnax?”

“How was he. Captured.”

“The One-Eyed king betrayed him. That is all?” He sounds… Not disappointed. Sad? Should he say the other things? 

Sam lowers the point of his sword, “You. You’ve lost a lot of your color.” He jumps, bringing the sword back up as Paarthurnax lets out a great laugh. 

“Indeed, I have!”

“And you’re being much nicer to me than before.”

The laugh lowers to a chuckle, “Indeed, I am.”

“I remember the day he put me here. In the valley. In spring. And the day I was killed.”

“You remember.”

“I remember some of the others. Not many.”

“Have you come across any?”

“Mirmulnir.”

“He is alive?”

Sam looks down, “No. He was. He was killed before I could stop them. But his soul. It. It’s gone.” Silence seeps into the snow. 

"It is not your fault." 

"It is." 

"You have the powers of a Dovahkiin. The price of how you were set to live again."

"If I hadn't run down to the watchtower, he would have caught me in the mountains. Maybe he would have remembered me." 

"There is no use dwelling." 

"Why are you still here? You could have left. Gone north. People can't live there anymore. No one would have found you." 

"Long after you were lost. When Alduin's plan had been enacted, after I was told I must help the _joor_ , it was then revealed to me the truth of your fate. I knew only what Alduin told us. He had lied. I was told you would return. And I was to help you."

"So you've just been waiting." 

"I continued to teach the _joor_ while I waited. Helping them when I could. Until the Akaviri came. I do not know if any others survived that purge. I was here. And this mountain was defended." 

"If everyone is gone. Is Alduin just. Planning on. Trying to take over alone?" 

"No. Alduin is the most powerful of us. You cannot doubt that. He created a shout that allows him to resurrect fallen dragons. This is how he tricked the _Joor_ into submission for so long until the truth of his identity was revealed.”

“Who’d he say he was?”

“ _Bormahu_.”

“He tricked them into thinking he was a God?”

“ _Geh_ . Many of us feared _Bormahu_ would retaliate immediately, but it took some time.”

“So. So. Alduin is probably off raising dragons who 1. Already hated me before and 2. Will continue to hate me because I _know_ Alduin is lying to them. I heard him. Lie to Mirmulnir.”

“ _Prodah_.”

“You knew him better than me.”

“ _Geh_. But none of them truly hated you. Alduin’s verdict was powerful. You were not the only to leave us.”

“Who?”

“Durnehviir vanished soon after you. I expect Alduin thought he would find him with you. But he did not.”

“He was very… seclusionary.”

“ _Geh_. Perhaps he is in hiding and he’ll come out someday.”

“Maybe.” Sam yawns. It’s getting dark. His body aches. 

“ _Bo. Vulon bo._ It will be dangerous the longer you wait.”

“Good idea.” Sam stands, “You know what I need to do, right?”

“Yes.”

“ _Pruzah_. Because no one else is saying anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paarthurnax - Ambition Overlord Cruelity 
> 
> Drem Yol Lok, Saansilkiin, fin tiid lost bo - Greetings, Saansilkiin, the time has come
> 
> Zeymah - Brother
> 
> Geh. Het ahst fin Strunmah - Yes, here at the mountain
> 
> Bormahu - Akatosh
> 
> Prodah - Predictable
> 
> Bo. Vulon bo - Go. Night Comes
> 
> Pruzah - Good


	14. Past Choices, Stupid Choices

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: PAST CHOICES, STUPID CHOICES

The sun has set by the time he makes it through the final gate. It’s nice to be off a skinny ledge and on a bigger outcrop. That he knows is stable. And will not fall off the mountain. It’s dark though. A few fires burn near the building but that’s all. He trudged down the stairs as another light joined the rest. A torch. Sam stops and stares at the man holding it. 

One of the Greybeards. 

Thank the fucking Gods they're not fucking dead. 

Sam keeps walking toward him. Gods this is strange. The Greybeard pushes open the door as Sam comes closer. He steps into the building. They don’t talk. Hmm. 

"Dragonborn, we wondered when you would come back down." 

Sam jumps, whipping around to face another Greybeard. 

“I am Master Arngeir.”

“I, hello, I’m Sam-Samson.” Sam straightens.

“Next to you is Master Borri,” two more walk into the main hall, “and Masters Einarth and Wulfgar.”

“Hello.”

"You have already met our Master, so I assume he needs no introduction." 

"Paarthurnax?" 

"Yes." 

"Do you just let people walk up there normally…?" 

"No." The others disperse, going back to whatever they were doing. Just Sam and Arngeir are left in the hall. "We knew if you were who you are you would know how to get past the gate. It was a test. If you'd like to call it that." 

"Because I knew the shout?" 

"Yes." 

The two of them stand in silence. Sam clears his throat. 

"How. Do you know. Do you know. Did he tell, Paarthurnax, did he tell you?" 

"Tell us?" 

“Who. Who I am?”

“Oh, yes, he did.”

“So you know what’s going on.”

“Well, yes. But any other questions you have can wait. I’m sure you’re tired. Come with me.” He starts walking down another hall. Sam follows. This is. Strange. To be here. 

“This is the room any initiates stay in. We haven’t had one for a rather long time. And the last left quite a few of his belongings.”

“Ulfric.”

“Yes.” He opens a door to a dusty room. It is old. Sam steps in and Arngeir leaves without a word. Sam turns and shuts the door. He sinks to the floor, staring at the room. He glances around, sighing. It doesn’t look anything like Ulfric’s room or any other room he would have spent any time in. But it is. It is. He looks around again, eyes finding a bag shoved as far back under the bed as it can get.

He crawls over to the bed, shimmying his way under it. He grabs one side of the bag and pulls it out with him. Sitting up, he unties the leather straps and pulls open the bag. Toys. Just a few. A wooden sword, some carved wooden soldiers with Windhelm’s crest on their chests, and a wooden horse. Parts of them have been worn, small divots showing how they were held when they were played with. He sets them all up on the floor and stares at them. Ulfric breaking the rules… 

He laughs a little. Ulfric breaking the rules. Customary rules at that. Sam picks up one of the figures, opens up his own bag, and places it inside. The others he places back in the original bag and shoves it back under the bed. 

He leaves his bag on the floor, climbing up into the bed. It’s warm. That’s nice. 

It’s cold outside. 

It’s always cold outside here. 

He looks up at the mountain. It’s a tall mountain. The tallest. 

Saansilkiin spreads his wings and starts up the cliffs, jumping more than flying, claws hooking on to the sheer rock, propelling him upwards, as far as he thought he could go. He stops, still looking upwards. He can go farther. He can. He jumps up again, claws gripping onto ice rather than rock now. He passes through thick clouds and the sun shines on him as he reaches the very top. He stays there for a moment, the warmth of the sun combatting the cold of the air. It’s nice. Comforting. 

A breeze pulls his wings up. He looks away from the sun and dives off the mountain top. The wind catches him and guides him down the cloud covered mountain with care, leaving him to his own will as he leaves the clouds. Soon he lands on green grass. He looks back up at the mountain. The highest up he’d ever been. 

He missed the glare of a black dragon.


	15. Complete History of the Dragon Cult, Lessons One-Five, Pay Attention Please

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE DRAGON CULT, LESSONS ONE-FIVE, PAY ATTENTION PLEASE

It is colder when he wakes. He pulls the cloak tighter around himself, pulls on his boots, and wanders out of the darkroom, mindlessly grabbing his bag on his way out, slinging it under the cloak. The hallway is entirely illuminated by torches, no light comes through the few windows and as he walks closer to one, he finds they are covered by snow. It must be a blizzard. This is what it always looked like in Windhelm. The sky would grow dark and soon no sun would be seen for days on end. 

He turns away from the window at the sound of footsteps. One of the Greybeards stops in front of him with a plate of dried meat and vegetables. He holds it out. Sam takes it.

“Thank you.”

The Greybeard nods and turns around, walking into the main hall. Sam follows after him, stopping at the top of the hall.

“Samson.”

“Master Arngeir.”

“How much do you remember from the time of the Dragon Cult?”

“I. I wasn’t there.” 

“You weren’t?”

“No. I was. Killed. Before it was really started.” Sam looks down at the food, any appetite he had is gone. Paarthurnax really didn’t tell them much… 

“Well. Perhaps we should begin this with a history lesson.” He walks out of the main hall, Sam following close to him. They step into an open room with an oblong table, chairs placed neatly and equally around it with a fireplace set in the center. It’s much warmer in this room. 

“Take a seat,” Arngeir sits in one of the seats. Sam takes the one next to him and setting the food aside. “What is the first thing you remember?”

“Waking up.”

“The day your physical form was created?”

“Yes.”

“After that?”

“When I left the continent.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“So you know absolutely nothing about the cult and the defeat of Alduin?”

“No.”

“Alright. The Dragon Cult didn’t last much more than two centuries. Alduin began his rule and appointed 13 Priests to rule over the different areas of Skyrim and parts of Solsthiem. As this worked through the two centuries, rebellions grew and the Dragons were taken off their throne. Three warriors, Hakon One-Eye, Felldir the Old and Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, brought Alduin from his tower and trapped him, pulling him into A Dragon Break, a Time Wound-”

“They shot him here?”

“Yes. They wanted to kill him, but they could not. Using an elder scroll was their only chance to stop the dragons.”

“So. Alduin’s rule only lasted 200 years?”

“Yes. Where did you go while this was happening?”

“I left. When I figured out that he was getting bored. Far away. To an island. And I stayed there. I don’t really know how long.”

“You never left?”

“No. He killed me. I’m still there. Technically.”

“Of course. Is there anything else?”

“No. Not that I can think of.” Sam glances at the food and back up to him, “Can I go for a walk?”

Arngeir blinks for a moment, staring at Sam before nodding, “Yes, of course, you can.”

“Thank you.” Sam stands, walking out of the room, leaving the food. The blizzard had stopped at some point and the clouds had sunk. He breathes deeply as he steps outside, the icy air refreshing after the way that room felt. The snow is fresh and soft, near-silent under his boots. It’s nice. 

He wanders down the mountain a bit, not too far, but far enough he doesn’t have it in the back of his mind. And he stops at the edge of the mountain, looking out over the sea of heavy clouds. The Sun stares down at him. He stares back, eyes squinted.

“What if I don’t want to kill him? What then? Do I have a choice? Or did you decide for me a long long time ago? I feel like you decided a long time ago.” He shuts his eyes, rubbing the dryness out of them. “If I don’t have a choice, I wish you’d just tell me. I feel a lot better about all of thi-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, so, ive decided with how full my schedule is now that ive started up with school, im just gonna update this when i want to. Im not gonna restrain it to fridays bc i forget to post stuff.


	16. Trust? After this Shit?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: TRUST? AFTER THIS SHIT?

He thrashed against the person's hold on him but whoever they were, they had a grip on him tight enough, Sam would need to double in size to escape it. If only he could. 

He had no idea where he was now, but it wasn’t cold and that is greatly unsettling. 

They set him down less than gently on the floor. He blinks as the burlap is pulled off his head. The person isn’t in front of him. He wipes his head around violently trying to get a look at them.

“Will you stop already?!” They grab either side of his head, forcing him to hold still. “Gods above, how have you not run out of energy yet?” They untie the gag, pulling it away from his mouth. His jaw pops. They step around to the front of him. 

“Are you going to be calm enough that we can have a conversation?” 

Sam doesn’t answer. 

“Good.” She pulls a chair over and sits in front of him, “My name is Delphine. And you’re the Dragonborn. I’m not your enemy. I’m part of a group that’s been looking for someone like you for a very long time and you’ve come at just the right one. I’m going to take off the bindings, okay? Don’t try to run away.” She stands up again, walking behind him. He pulls his wrists forward as she cuts the rope. He unties his feet and legs himself before she can get a chance to. She sits back down. 

“There. I’m sure that’s more-”

“ _ Fus RO DAH! _ ” Sam jumps up as she flies backward into a shelf of alchemy ingredients, frantically looking around for his bag. It’s on the table. He grabs it as she starts to come too and bolts up the stairs, out of a cupboard. It’s in the inn. He runs out of the room and through the Inn, barely making it out the door without slipping on the stone. There’s a horse tied to the fence outside. He unties the rope and jumps up on the horse, urging it into a gallop. It does so just as Delphine stumbles out the door. 

“ _ Wait! _ ” 

He flies past the guards at the gate and down the road. He’ll follow the river. Get into the plains and hide somewhere in the mountains. There’s no way she can keep up. He has too good of a head start. 

He moves off the road as it makes a turn, turning the horse down to the river. It’s just a quick run around the north side of the lake and he should be into the plains in no time. The trees cover him as the horse steps up on the side of the river. It’s good. More cover. Just in case. 

The horse slows. Sam relaxes a bit. He glances down at the horse. 

Oh. He stole a horse. 

Shit. 

He stole a horse. 

Well. Nothing to do now. It’s too late to turn back now. Even if he wanted to.

But now he’s so far away from the mountain. 

He looks back, catching glimpses of the mountain through the trees. His eyes drop a few feet. 

Shit. SHIT. 

He faces forward, urging the horse into a gallop once again. 

“SAMSON,  _ STOP! _ ”

How did she manage to find him so quick? That doesn’t matter right now. He needs to lose her. Quick. He looks back. She turns her horse up the mountain. He looks back, turning his up as well. He doesn’t see her, but he can hear her. He’s getting closer to the plains. Almost. If he can just. Gods above. This is turning to shit faster than he expected it too. 

He looks to the right as she comes into view in the corner of her eye. 

The road is just ahead of them. He takes a sharp right, leaving the dirt and hitting the stone. He continues into the dried fields as a shadow passes over him. He looks up, yanking the horse to a jerky stop. He slips off and the horse continues running. 

Delphine comes to a stop as well, looking from the Dragon to Sam, his head is barely showing over the grass. She urges the horse toward Sam. He looks at her and ducks under the grass before he jumps up and starts to run toward a dragon mound. 

Is he clueless?!

“SAMSON-!”

“SLEN TIID VO!” 

The ground shakes. 

Sam stares at the Mound as it cracks. A skull bursts out of the stone and earth. He turns as a hand grips his wrist. Delphine. He pulls it back, looking back at the dragon as gold covers the skeleton. It fades leaving a gold-green dragon.

It looks at him for a moment. 

He stares back.

“I was right.” Delphine’s voice breaks their stare. Sam looks back at her. She looks from the dragons at him. She pulls her sword out. Sam looks back at the dragon, eyes drifting up to Alduin. The black dragon narrows his eyes. 

“ _ Krii Niin. _ ”

“ _ Geh, Alduin, di Thuri _ .”

Sam shrinks.

Fuck. 

Delphine charges in front of him, sword raised, “You need to run. Now.”

“Put your sword down.”

“What?”

Sam steps in front of her, pushing her blade down, the tip hitting the dirt. “ _ Vuljotnaak! _ ”

The dragon stares at him. 

“ _ Zeymah, Nii los zu’u, Saansilkiin. _ ” He holds his hands up slightly. “Alduin is tricking you!  _ Zu’u bolog, Zeymah. Please. _ ” He stumbles forward as the dragon lowers his head. 

“ _ Los nii hi? _ ” The words come out more like a growl from the dragon’s throat. 

Sam nods, “ _ Geh. _ ” He stops a few feet away, “It’s me. I swear on it.” He looks to his left at the rustling of grass. 

Delphine pulls her sword up out of the dragon’s neck. Sam looks at her. She looks at him. 

“Good job distracting hi-”

“ _ WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! _ ” He charges at her, his words echoing off the boulders around them. 

“Samson-”

“STOP SAYING MY NAME!” Blue light snakes over his hands, he grabs the end of her sword and chucks it behind him. She stumbles backward. White light showers over him. He loses his vigor. 

It happened again. 

He looks at his hands. They’re covered in sticky blood. 

“That beast was going to kill you.” She spits. Sam’s eyes shoot up. 

“ _ HE REMEMBERED ME _ .” Birds fly out of the trees.

“You’re being ridiculous, Samson.”

“AND YOU KILLED HIM FOR NO REASON!”

“I SAVED YOU!”

“YOU- YOU  _ KILLED HIM _ !” Sam pants, glaring at her. 

“That dragon was going to kill you.”

“ _ Say that one more time- _ ”

“And what? You’ll kill me?”

Sam tenses, “I- I don’t know! He wasn’t going to kill me!”

She rubs her brow. “You need to come back to Riverwood with me. We need to  _ talk _ .”

“Why should I? You kidnapped me and killed him.”

“You-” She takes a breath, “I can’t be out in the open, and neither can you. Just. Come back with me. And we can talk. On your terms.”

Sam glances at the sky. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Krii Niin - kill them
> 
> Geh, Alduin, di Thuri - yes, alduin, my overlord.
> 
> Zeymah, Nii los zu’u, Saansilkiin - Brother, it is me, Saansilkiin
> 
> Zu’u bolog, Zeymah - I beg, brother
> 
> Los nii hi - it is you?


	17. "You're a Bitch." "And You're a Child."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: “YOU’RE A BITCH.” “AND YOU’RE A CHILD.”

  
  


“Good.” She turns away from him and whistles. The two horses had stopped a ways away from the commotion. They turn at the call and run over. 

“They’re yours?”

“Yes.” She hands the one he’d taken off to him. He stares at the horse for a moment before climbing on its back. Delphine takes the lead. 

“We’re taking the same way back.”

Through the forest. Through the forest. He doesn’t respond, just follows her. He glances back at the skeleton. 

Nothing to do now. 

Nothing he can do. 

Nothing.

He is more comfortable when they’re under the trees again. Less so the closer they get back to the town. He doesn’t. He doesn’t really want to have any form of confrontation. And he had tried to avoid that last time. But it’s day this time. 

He keeps his head down as they step under the gate. Glancing around, he doesn’t see either of them. That’s. That’s good. Delphine guides her horse to the back of the inn where a stable sits with one other horse. She gets off and guides the horse in. Sam does the same. 

He follows her into the Inn and the bedroom from before. She unlocks the cabinet and holds it open for him. He walks back down into the room, staring at the crushed shelf. 

Oh. 

She walks past him, laying a map out on the table in the center. He watches as she makes a mark on a blank map, muttering to herself. He narrows his eyes at it before looking back up at her.  _ Oh _ .

“You’re the person who was talking with the mage.”

“It took you long enough.”

“ _ You tried to find my things _ .”

“You’re smarter than you look.” 

“And you’re a thief!”

“You’re any better?”

“You kidnapped me!”

“We are well past that.”

“Why do you want the Dragonstone?”

“Why? Do you have it?”

“Why do you want it?”

“It’s a map.”

“And what do you want to use it for.”

“It would allow me to keep track of the dragon mounds. Like the one we were just at.”

“Even if I did have it, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

“Empty threats.”

“You want to test that?”

“If you kill me, you’ll never find out what I know about Alduin and  _ you _ .”

Sam tenses. She does know his name. 

She looks up at him, “You are smarter than you look.” She sets her quill down. “Alright. Now that I found you, we need to find an old frie-”

“I’m not doing shit until you tell me who you are.”

“That is. Fair.” She pulls two chairs out. Sam hesitates but sits down. “I had started telling you who I was before you ran off, you know.” She’s attempting to lighten the mood. 

Sam frowns. 

“Okay. Okay. We’ll just completely start over. My name is Delphine. I’m a blade. I’ve been hiding here for a while. Thanks to your Uncle. As a Blade. It was part of my training to learn certain histories. One of those was of the dragons. I never really paid it much attention. But the person we are going to go get, Esbern, knows more than me. He can help us.”

Sam stares at her for a moment. She doesn’t seem like she’s lying. “I’m not going to trust you.”

“That. That’s fine.” 

It doesn’t sound fine. 

“Right now. You are my best chance of finding Esbern. There may be some information, some clues, to where he went in the Thalmor Embassy. They know what I look like. But knowing Ulfric, he probably never trusted any allies of the Altmer around you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Good. They have no idea what you look like. And you… Look old enough.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You’re going to sneak into the Thalmor Embassy for me.”

Sam blinks a few times. “I’m going to  _ what _ ?”

“We need the information from there. You’re the only one out of the two of us who the elves don’t know. Give me a day to send a letter then we’ll travel to Solitude. I have a friend who works at the Embassy. He hates the elves just as much as I do.”

“What would I even be looking for?”

“Dossiers. A few of them. Maybe they know more about the dragons. Maybe they have something to do with them.”

“How would they? This was caus-”

“I’ll get the letter sent out by nightfall. Is there anything you can think of that you could need?”

“I.” Sam stares at her, “A book on invisibility spells.”

“You can learn one in time?”

“I’ll have to try? I’d rather not break into the one place I’d never get out of if I got caught.”


	18. Teach for Survival

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: TEACH FOR SURVIVAL

“Here, the book.”

“Thanks.” Sam takes it, flipping it open. He glances at the first few pages. 

“How long will it take you?”

“I have no idea. It’s not exactly a novice spell.”

“You have a day.”

“That-”

“We’re on a time constraint.”

Sam looks back at the book. Great. 

“I have to go back up. Stay here.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t try to run.”

“The more you talk, the harder it is to focus.”

She opens her mouth before shutting it, shaking her head slightly, and walking up and out of the room. He sets the book on the floor, leaning over it. 

Time flies more slowly than he cared for but the door opens at one point. He doesn’t look up until the sound of the door shutting hits him. Food. It’s a plate of food. He reaches for an apple, looking it over before taking a bite. 

He looks back at the book. 

The torches crack as he holds up one of his hands. Staring at the book, he glances up at his hand as the spell forms in a few sparks. He stares at it before looking down at himself. 

He grins.

“Look at that. Well. Not look. I suppose.” 

Sam looks up, dropping the book. 

“So. We leave tonight then.”

“Just because I got it once doesn’t mean I can get it more.”

“You can practice more on the road.”


	19. Warm Waters (Have Sharks)

CHAPTER NINETEEN: WARM WATERS (HAVE SHARKS)

Sam shoves the book into his bag. Just on the off chance, he does have some miracle of a chance to practice a tad more before it becomes detrimental that he can hold the spell up for long periods of time. 

“Are you ready?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Delphine gives him a small look before throwing his cloak to him. He ties it around his shoulders. She gestures for him to walk ahead of her and he does so, waiting at the top of the stairs. She locks the cabinet and they walk out to the stables. Sam faces the same horse from before. It doesn’t exactly look indifferent. Sam digs into his bag pulling out a somewhat bruised apple. He holds it up and the horse takes it. He walks around and climbs up. 

Delphine takes the lead. It’s calm. The guards give him a look as he passes them. He keeps his own down. 

“We’re riding straight there.”

“Okay.”

“When we get to the Farm just out of the city, we’ll stay around there for the night.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll talk about the best course of action midday tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Sam looks up at the peak for a moment. He could try and get back up. If he managed to get back in. And he just didn’t leave. He’d be fine. He looks at Delphine. But she knows more than him. More. Things that he may need to know. If he doesn’t die trying to get the information from her. That would fuck everything over, wouldn't it? 

Sam straightens, “You know if I die. The world ends. Right.”

“Anything can be killed.”

Sam frowns, biting his tongue.

Great. Just. Great. Perfection. 

She’s a fucking idiot. 

Sam keeps his mouth shut as they pass through the forests and swamplands. The salty smell of the ocean slowly becomes more and more apparent as the night gets darker and darker. They pass through a small town. Sam wracks his brain for the name of it before he remembers as they walk over the stone bridge. Dragonbridge. Of course. You’d think it would be the easiest for him to remember. Apparently not.

Sam tenses at the sight of some smoke rising on a ridge. It’s the camp. He’s seen the map enough times to recognize it. Pulling the hood a tad farther over his head does little to provide comfort. But it’s all he can do. 

Delphine veers off the path after another few minutes. Sam follows. They come to the back of a farm. A boy a few years younger than Sam looks up at the sight of them. Delphine gets off her horse. Sam does the same. The boy walks over and pulls each of them into the stable. 

“Come on, Sam.” She walks off into the trees and toward the sound of waves hitting rocks. Sam follows her but ends up walking past her. He stands at the edge of the water. The sea of ghosts. It’s slightly warmer here. At the shore. He crouches down, plunging a hand into it. Warm. It’s not cold here yet. But give it a few weeks. And the wind will bring snow from Atmora and freeze everything for months before Kyne calms her wrath with the sight of snow drops. 

“Sam.”

“Hmm?”

“Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Hmm.”

“And if anyone here was to recognize you now-”

“ _ Now _ you’re worried?”

“You need sleep.”

“Sure.” He sits in the rocks, the waves just barely hitting his boots. The moons reflect on the water. He looks over toward the City. Its massive palace stands strong. It looks in better condition than Windhelm. The city is practically held up by the ice. Here that is not an issue. 

His eyes fall a few inches, staring at a guard with a torch looking his way off the end of a dock. Sam reluctantly stands and walks back to the dark, inconspicuous camp Delphine had made. She seems to relax slightly as he sits in the grass and lays down. 


	20. Et Non Tenens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello this chapter contains a character having a panic attack, if these kinds of visuals are hard for you to read through, I will be marking the beginning and end with an "*" so you can still read the chapter but skip over this part.

CHAPTER TWENTY: ET NON TENENS

Sam rolls over on his back as the sky becomes too bright to ignore any longer. He sits up after a minute and looks over. She’s awake. 

“You talk in your sleep.”

“Hmm.”

“The same language the dragon’s were speaking.”

“Mmhm.”

“Here.” She throws a bag over to him. He glances up at her before opening it. Clothes. “You’ll want to put those on before you head up there.”

“Up?”

“The Embassy. It’s up the mountain a ways. Don’t worry, I’ve got it all worked out. For now, you're going to go into the city and meet up with a wood elf named Malborn. He’s a friend. He knows you’re coming. He’s at the inn waiting for you. He'll take anything you think you might need up and when you are ready, he’ll give them to you and you can do what you need to. You're sure Elenwen has never seen you?" 

"No. She was meant to come to Helgan before the dragon attack." Sam pulls his bag over and shoves the smaller one inside

"Before that?"

"Ulfric would have figured out a way to make his shout tear people apart before he ever let me close to a high elf."

"I’m staying here. If anything goes wrong, come straight back out here."

"Okay." 

"Good luck. Go straight to the Inn. Come back here before you go up."

“Okay.” Sam stands. This is a lot. He’s not going to lie to himself. At all. He swings the bag over his shoulder, cloak falling over it as he starts up the hill toward the Capital City. Solitude. It's been so long. 

The guards eye him but give him no trouble as he walks to the gates. They pull open and Sam's eyes widen. A festival. Shimmering and eye-catching. He steps through the doors, looking back as they pull shut. Ha. Locked in now. 

He looks back, eyes drifting through the laughing people, elves, Argonians, and even Khajiit. He starts wandering, glancing at the booths of traders and street foods from different places in Tamriel. None of it looks overly familiar but Sam can name a few from his books. 

Ash Yams. 

Blackberry tarts. 

Sweetcakes.

Rice. 

He stops in front of one completely unfamiliar fruit and picks it up.

"Ever had an orange, Lad?"

Sam looks up from the fruit, "It's named after its color?"

"It is! Simplicity at its best."

"How much for one?"

"Well, normally it's 6 gold, but because you've never had one, 4 gold for you." The man takes four gold pieces as Sam digs them out of a pocket in the bag. 

"Thank you."

"Go have fun! Oh, and you peel the orange! Don't just bite it!" The Imperial waves as Sam walk off. He stops at a dance circle, smiles only growing as he watches the people spin and weave through each other. People switch out as a new song begins. 

Sam doesn't notice the girl about his age sliding toward him until she took his hand and pulled him into the circle. He stares dumbfounded at her as she guides him shakily through the fast pace dance, one of her hands holding onto his wrist as he barely keeps a hold on the orange. 

"We'll all rejoice the day we see the traitor's head upon a pike!" The music ends abruptly. 

The traitors head. 

Oh. Oh. 

He pulls his hands out of the girls and whips around coming face to face with the last person he would ever want to see. 

Tullius. 

"Might want to watch yourself, Son, those dances usually leave people dizzy and you..." his words trail. 

Shit. 

*

Sam bolts in the direction he vaguely remembers the inn being in, weaving through tight-knit houses and past guards until he skids to a stop in front of it. His breath keeps catching at the top of his throat. His eyes fall on an ally at the site of the Inn. He stumbles over to it, sliding into the shadows as he struggles to catch his breath. He can't see anything. It’s completely black. Everything. The orange squishes in hand, nails piercing the skin. 

Tears hit the dirt as he leans forward, finally able to suck in some air. He can smell the orange. It helps him force himself to breathe out then back in, body trembling every time he does so. Until he can see again and his hands stop shaking.

He sits there for a bit. Who knows how truly long it was but no one walks past him and no one sees him so who cares. 

Eventually, he drops the orange and brings his hands to his face, scratching away dried salt trails and pulling it out of stiffness. 

*

Fuck. 

What now? 

If he did recognize him.

He’s dead here.

He looks at a strand of hair in front of his eyes. 

It’s been long for as long as he can remember. 

It’s lost much of what it had in the last few weeks. 

But. 

He stands, giving his face one last work over before walking around the corner after a moment of glancing around, and walks up and into the Inn. A wood elf looks up from a drink as he enters. Sam stares at him. He stands and waves him over. Sam follows him up a staircase and into a room.

“If Delphine had told me you were a fucking child, I don’t think I would be doing this.” The Elf looks expectant of a response, but Sam’s eyes are behind him at a pair of shears.

“Did Delphine at least tell you what you’re doing?”

Sam nods.

“Great. Give me your stuff. The things you want up there.” The elf waits as Sam sets his bag on the ground and pulls out a single item. A dagger. He holds it out. 

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s your hide. This room is out for the rest of the day. Just get up there before sundown.”

“Okay.” Sam watches as the elf leaves, his dagger in hand. Sam turns back to the shears. He picks them up, turning to a mirror on the other side of the room. He gathers a chunk of his hair and cuts through it. Braids he’s managed to keep in fray out. He sets the shears down after a moment and combes the braids out with his fingers. 

Different enough that at a glance, he won’t be recognized.


	21. Swim Too Fast and They'll Find You

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SWIM TOO FAST AND THEY’LL FIND YOU

Sam takes a breath. 

Okay. Okay. 

He carefully takes off his cloak, brushing it off, and his shirt, bundling it up so any hair that got stuck to it stays there. He pulls out the clothes, holding them up and staring at them. 

Ugh. 

He really hasn’t missed these. He gives his hair one last shake out and pulls the shirt on. 

Okay. 

He finishes changing and stuffs his clothes into the bag. 

Alright. 

Okay. 

Good. 

Good. 

This is fine. 

He sits down taking a section of his hair and attempts a braid, letting what did work unravel as he realizes it isn’t long enough to work. He looks out one of the windows. It’s not really getting close to sunset, but he’d rather get out of the city. Quickly. 

He ties his cloak on, grabs his bag, and walks out of the room. 

Alright.

He pulls his hood up as he walks down the stairs and straight to the door. He pulls it open after a second and steps out into the city. He looks around. Okay. No Legion sniffing around. If he’s quick and quiet, this will be easy. Where was that exit… It goes right down to the docks… 

Gods, it had been years since he’s been in the city. Looking at a map and being here is too different. It is toward the sea. He’ll start there. By the sea. A gate. It was a gate. That led down some stairs. 

Damnit. 

He steps down into the road and takes a breath, walking as normally as he can force himself too. Have you ever tried to force yourself to walk normally? It doesn’t work too well. Your legs start to feel wrong the more you pay attention to them.

Sam wraps his arms around himself as he walks closer to a guard than he’s like to. That’s okay. This looks more. Familiar? Maybe? He looks down an open doorway as he walks under a bridge connecting towers. The Gate. He glances around before quickly running inside, holding himself carefully as to make as little noise as possible. 

“What do you want to do, Tullius? What if you’re just seeing ghosts?”

“There was no way for us to know if he did die to the dragon or not, Rikke. The whole fucking town was collapsed.”

Sam stops. 

“Then forget what you saw. You said he was turned around. Maybe you just spooked him and you saw what you wanted to see.”

“Fine.” 

Sam walks the rest of the way to the gate, heel first, holding his breath. 

“Besides. You think if he did manage to get out that Ulfric would ever let him out of his sight again.”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

Sam slowly pushes the gate open, biting his tongue as it squeaks. Shit. 

“Someone there?”

Sam slips through the small gap, moving down the stairs. Footsteps echo behind him. 

“It’s likely just a guard.”

“Who didn’t answer me?”

Sam steps a tad faster, his own footsteps take over. 

“Whoever it is, they don’t seem like they’re willing to stop for a chat.”

Shit. Sam takes a chance and starts running until he reaches the gate at the bottom of the stairs. And it’s locked. 

Nonononono. Sam pulls his bag around, digging for a pick, does he even have one? No. Of course not. He wraps his hands around the lock, willing it to freeze in his hands before ramming into the gate with all the force he has. 

The lock snaps and the gate flies open, sending Sam rolling into the dirt road. 

He sits up as the two others round the last corner. 

They stare at each other for a moment before Sam comes to his senses, scrambles up, and bolts down the road. They watch him until he rounds a corner.

“He’s alive.”

“He is.”


	22. Drunkards and Tasteless Jokes

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: DRUNKARDS AND TASTELESS JOKES

Delphine looks up as Sam slows to a stop in the small camp. He looks behind him before looking at her. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing-”

“Nothing?”

“I thought I saw Tullius.”

“Why would that matter?”

“He knows who I am.”

“Ah,” She gives him a look, “You cut your hair.”

“I did.”

“It looks nice.”

“I-Thank you.”

“Alright. Here, give me your stuff, I’ll keep it while you’re up there. Oh here’s the invitation, and this.”

Sam takes a cloth piece from her before the envelope, “What is this?”

“You should tie it around your eye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I just. Didn’t think about it.” Sam folds it a bit and ties it around his eye. He looks at her. 

“It covers most of it.”

“That’s good.” Sam drops his bag and looks at the envelope. 

“You’re ready?”

“I suppose so.”

“Alright. Take the horse up. It’ll be safer. If you go up to the main road, there is a break off that goes up the mountain, take that, you’ll see the building when you’re close. Use the Invitation.”

“Okay.”

“This shouldn’t be too hard. Just play along, okay?”

“...Okay.” Sam takes a breath and walks over to the horse. It gives him no troubles as he climbs on. 

Good. 

This’ll be easy. 

He keeps his head down as he passes a few guards before taking a sharp right up the path Delphine told him to. 

It gets colder as he continues, more and more snow piling on the roads.

If he has to run. He might not be lucky enough to getaway. 

He shouldn’t think about that until he gets to that. 

Not smart to worry about a thing that may not even happen. 

Sam turns toward the building as he reaches it. Two guards stand outside. A redguard looks up as he stops by a small collection of carriages. 

“Running a little late, are you?”

Sam tenses, sliding less than gracefully off the horse as the Redguard speaks. He looks up at him, “Uh, I suppose so.”

“That’s alright, I didn’t mind waiting outside. Less stuffy out here,” He wraps an arm around Sam, “She gave you the invitation, right?”

Sam nods slowly. 

Oh.

Playalong.

“Good, good, just in case, my name is Razelan,” He takes his arm off lets Sam take the first steps, “Let’s get this over with!”

Sam nods. 

One of the guards walks up to the two of them and silently takes the invitations before stepping aside and letting them walk up into the building. It’s warm inside which is nice, but the High Elf walking over to them takes much of that away. 

“Razelan. Wonderful to have you back.”

“I’m sure it’s a delight, Lady Elenwen.”

“Who’s this?” She looks at Sam. They are so much taller than Sam had ever really thought they would be. 

“A friend of mine’s son, Vili. He’s in line to be part of the Company in a few years.”

“Ah, well, welcome-”

“Ma’am?” 

The elf’s face sours as she turns, “I’ve told you not to interrupt me many times before, Malborn.”

Malborn. 

Sam looks around the Elenwen a bit at the Wood Elf. Malborn glances at him. 

“I apologize but do I have permission to open the-”

“Yes, do whatever you must.”

Malborn nods and walks back to a small bar. Sam straightens as she looks back at him.

“My apologies for that interruption.”

“That’s okay.”

“Please, enjoy yourself, perhaps we can talk more later. I do enjoy meeting new people.”

Sam holds himself better than he thought he’d be able to as he nods and walks past her. Her voice is unsettling. Too calm. 

“Do me a favor and grab me a drink, will you? Wine.” Razelan nudges him toward Malborn. Sam nods and walks over. 

“Hello, Sir, what can I get you?”

“Just wine, please.”

“Of course.” Sam leans on the wood as the elf pours wine into a goblet and walks back over to him, “You’re ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“Make a distraction. Then come here.”

“Thank you.” Sam takes the wine from him and makes his way back to Razelan. 

Razelan takes it, “What did he tell you?”

“Distraction.”

“Leave that to me.” He smiles, chugs the wine, and hands the cup back to Sam, “Why don’t you get me another drink?”

“Okay.” Sam nods a bit and walks back over to the bar. Malborn gives him a look before looking behind him as Razelan’s voice booms out.

“Attention, everyone! Could I have your attention, please! I have an announcement to make! I propose a toast to Elenwen! Our mistress! I speak figuratively, of course. Nothing could be more unlikely than someone would actually want her in their bed.”

The guards have turned away from them, hands on their swords, ready to take a few quick steps over to the Redguard. Malborn grabs Sam, pulling him behind the counter and into a short hallway. Sam manages fairly well to not fall on his ass as the door closes. 

“Come on, you don’t have that much time,” he opens a door on the opposite side that enters the kitchen, “When you leave this building, get through the courtyard, and into Elenwen’s Solar, it’s just the other building. From there, you’re on your own.”

“Okay.”

“Malborn, who is this, you know I don’t like-”

“Just a guest feeling ill, Tsavanni.”

Sam looks around the side of the elf at the Khajit. She gives him a look and he drops his eyes. 

“Come on, over here.” Malborn takes Sam around to another short hall, shutting the door behind them. “Your dagger.”

Sam takes it, placing it at his side, “Thank you.”

“Get out as fast as you can.”

“Okay.” Sam is left alone as Malborn steps back into the kitchen, locking the door behind him. Sam turns to the other door and takes a breath, closing his eyes, and focusing the best he can until he opens his eyes and cannot see his hands. Or anything else. 

Okay. 

He needs to go. 


	23. Endlessly Walking on Fucking Coals

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: ENDLESSLY WALKING ON FUCKING COALS

  
  


He pushes the door open slowly, looking around it just in case. No one right there. Good. That’s good. He slips into the hallway. 

“Did you see those new mages? Do you know who they’re with?”

Sam stops.

“Herself is getting a little worried about the dragons. About time.”

“What are the robes going to do against a dragon?” Two guards stop in a doorway to Sam’s left. 

“Who knows. Maybe they’ll be good bait so we actually have a chance at killing the thing.”

“Hmm,” one of them laughs, “It would be nice to see them taken down a notch.”

“Yes it would,” One of them looks toward Sam. Sam freezes, “Someone left the door open.”

“Just shut it. It’s not like Herself cares about any of the people here.” One of them walks up the hall and into another room while the other walks to the door and pushes it shut. Sam holds his breath as the guard takes a look around before shrugging and following his companion. 

He sighs and walks through the doorway the two had left. It’s a rather large room with a small bar and some food scattered around haphazardly. A set of stairs is behind the bar. That is more likely than not, the incorrect way to go. He turns to another door on the other side of the room and walks to it, stepping into a hallway with a sharp corner. He walks against the wall until he can see around the corner. A door. 

Let it be the last one for now. Please.

He carefully pulls it open, meeting stepped in snow and a dark sky. 

Thank the Gods.

He takes a few careful first steps before shutting the door. All he needs to do is stick to the already there footprints. Easy enough. He keeps his eyes on the ground as he walks, glancing up ever so often to see if any of the guards have changed positions. They don’t, luckily for him. He stops a few feet from the guard standing at the door. Okay. 

He walks slowly, leaning slightly on the door for a moment before slowly opening it and squeezing in. 

“I need that money, I have my own expenses!”

“You’ll get it as soon as the thief’s story is verified.”

“Sir-”

Sam steps carefully on the wooden floorboards, glancing at the Nord and elf off in a more private room. 

“It is thanks to you we have finished the Dossier on the old man, but for now, I must be sure we know he is truly there before wasting resources on it.” 

Sam stops dead, staring at the book in the elf’s hand. 

He needs that.

“When I feel more strongly that we are on the correct path, I will send someone for you.”

“Fine.” The Nord turns and storms out. The elf rolls his eyes and walks out of the office. Sam follows, stopping as he drops the book in a drawer and walks off. Sam glances around and runs over to the drawer, pulling it open. Three books sit slightly disturbed. Sam grabs them, holding them to his chest, under the cloak. He can’t see them. Let’s hope that is the same for everyone else. He turns and freezes as the elf walks past him once again but doesn’t look his way. 

That answers that. 

“Let’s see if we can get this ingrate thief talking.”

The thief. What if that old man is Esbern?

Sam straightens and starts after the elf, following him downstairs to a torture room. 

Oh. 

Oh, gods. 

Sam stares at the man locked in the cell. 

Same way he was. 

The elf unlocks the cell. 

“Let’s begin again shall we?”

“Sam sets down the books. 

“I’ve told you all I know.”

He pulls the dagger out, walking behind the elf.

“I think you know.”

“I swear on my life, I _don’t_.” The man looks up as Sam’s dagger drives through the elf’s chest and pulls back out. The elf falls quick enough for Sam’s comfort. He looks up at the thief. 

“You’re not going to kill me next, are you?”

“No.”

“There’s a key over there.”

Sam nods, walking away from the cell and over to a small hook on the wall, pulling a key off and walking back over. He steps over the elf and stands on his toes to unlock the shackles. The thief falls on him, Sam helps him stand up, still offering some support. 

“You know where the old man is?”

“Gods, not you too-”

“Just. I’ll help you get out of here _if_ you tell me where he is.”

“Fine, fine. First, we get out.”

“Okay.”

“I’m pretty sure this is an exit. They throw… Bodies down there.” He points to a trap door. Sam helps him walk over before letting him sit. 

“I just need to get those books.”

“You’re stealing books?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m looking for the old man.”

“Hurry up, I don’t want to be here when the guards find that body.”

“Okay.” Sam walks over to the table and picks up the books. He walks back over to the trap door crouching down next to it. “Is it unlocked?”

“No.”

“Can you pick it?”

“...yes.”

“Will you?”

“How.”

“Oh. Um. Dagger?”

“Fine.” He takes the dagger from Sam. 

“Thank yo-”

“So, Ulfric let you out of his sight. Your name is Samson, isn’t it?.” 

Sam tenses as Elenwen’s voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re more clever than he was." 

Sam stands up, backing against the wall. 

"When you find him, don't kill him." 

Oh no. Not again. 

Sam glances over at the dead elf. He has a sword. Sam holds his breath, listening as soft steps get somewhat closer, ending with one louder thud. 

Okay. 

Sam unties the cloak, dropping the books on it, and jumps out, pulling the sword up. 

Two guards stopped, snickering at the sight. Sam glances between them, finding Malborn bound and stuck behind them. 

"What are you gonna do?"

Sam looks over the elf’s armor, small gaps sit at many parts of the armor. He's at a disadvantage. He's not tall enough. 

Sam glances at the sword. 

Shit. 

"We should stop stalling." 

"Yes, you're right."

Sam takes a step back as the elves pull out their own swords. He drops him slightly, looking over at the thief. He doesn't exactly look relieved. 

Sam looks back at the elves. 

Oh. 

Sam stops, keeping his eyes on the elves. 

"Giving up?"

Sam plants himself, taking a few breaths, " _Fus RO DAH!_ " 

The elves fly back, landing in a heap on the other side of the room. Sam stares at them for a moment before putting the sword in his belt and moving to untie Malborn.

“Thanks.”

“Come on.” The Thief has the door up and open, holding the dagger up. Sam takes it, grabs his cloak and books, holding them in a bundle, and drops down into a… Well, he’s pretty sure it’s a cave. A foul-smelling cave. Malborn and the Thief drop down after him. Sam starts walking, pit in his stomach growing as he sees no bodies. “Are you sure they’d put dead people down here?”

“I saw enough.”

“Where the fuck are they then?”

A grunt echoes through the cave. Sam walks the way through until it ends at an outcropping looking over a cavern with bones strewn about it and a troll laying in the center. 

Oh, come on. 

It looks like a frost troll as well. 

Fuck. 

“Can we just, sneak past it…?”

“And have it catch us outside the cave?”

“I. I guess it would.”

Sam looks around the cavern for any easier way to escape. He looks over to the cave entrance as a short whistle echoes a bit. 

Delphine. 

She has an arrow drawn. 

One good clean shot to the trolls back and it should be enough for them to at least run past it. It just needs to stand for that to happen. Sam creeps to the edge of the outcrop and drops down, landing as carefully as he can in the bloody dirt. He crouches down, grabbing a small rock. He tosses it around for a moment before throwing it with all he has, hitting the troll square in the head. 

He takes a few steps back as the Troll stands, eyeing Sam. It starts moving, claws raised before it falls flat on its face, three arrows sticking out the back of it. Sam looks at Delphine. She waves for him to come on.

Sam looks up at the two still standing on the outcropping, “Come on, it’s dead.” He waits for them to drop down before walking out, letting himself fall back into the snow, “I am never doing that again.”

“You shouldn’t have to as long you have the book.”

“They’re in here.” Sam holds up the bundle. “The thief knows where Esbern is too.”

“Esbern?”

“You do?”

“The elves wanted information on an old man who’s hold up under Riften. He-” Sam sits up, “What’s your name?”

“Etienne.”

“Etienne knows.”

“Where under Riften?”

“The Ratways, where fucking else?”

“Of course.”

Sam pulls the books out of the cloak and throws it at the thief, “You’re cold.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Fucking nords…”

“Come on, Sam, the horses, and your things are over here. Both of you, come too.” Delphine walks through the snow around a dense patch of trees, showing them a small campsite. Sam goes to his bag immediately, pulling out his clothes. Gods he wants out of these stupid party clothes. 

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I see the book?”

“Yes, I grabbed three.”

“Did you look at them?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She takes the three books from him. Sam steps over to the horse, clothes, and bag in hand, standing semi behind it. He pulls the shirt off, abandoning it in the snow. 

“Gods, kid, what happened to you?” Etienne stares at him. Sam looks down at his chest. Ah. The same red, scarry-like, tissue around his eye is spread over his chest and back. 

“Nothing in this life.” He pulls the shirt on.

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“They’re just birthmarks.”

“You look like you've been through battle.”

“Maybe I have been.” He pulls off his boots and changes his pants quickly before climbing on the horse, leaving the shoes off. 

“Malborn, you ride with me, put this on.” Delphine throws him a cloak and climbs on the horse. He puts it on numbly and climbs on behind her.

“Etienne, we’re going to Riften.”

“Riften.”

“I assume you're part of the guild. If you want company.”

“Gladly. Do you mind, Sam?”

“No.” He scooches a little farther up on the horse’s back, making a bit more room. Etienne climbs up. 

“Let’s go, we’ll stick to following the main roads as much as we can. Fastest way. From here to Dragon Bridge, Rorikstead, Falkreath, Helgan, and finally Riften. It shouldn’t take more than a day as long as we keep moving.” 


	24. Falling Leaves and Rats

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: FALLING LEAVES AND RATS

Sam can barely see the snow-capped mountains of Windhelm over the orange and gold trees. If he were up just a bit higher, he could probably see the top of the Palace of Kings. The ragged banners. 

“The horse does have eyes, but you’ll be better off watching the road with it.”

Sam pulls his eyes away from the mountains, looking ahead of him. 

“Missing home?”

“More than I thought.”

“It can be that way.”

“Are you glad to be home?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think you were going to die there?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“You’re a bad liar, never become a thief.”

“You got caught.”

“I was tricked.”

“You trusted the wrong people.”

“Seems you trust some shotty people as well.”

“I don’t trust her.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Esbern, the Old Man, he knows more about something than me.”

“You know, I’ve never seen someone with birthmarks like that.”

“I’m happy to be the first.”

“No scars in there?”

“I’ve always had them, scars look different,” He pushes his sleeve, holding up his arm. A long, curved, scar stands out just a bit, “A training axe caught me a few years ago, did more damage than it was meant to.”

“Doesn’t look that much different.”

“You’re not used to seeing them. The scars are duller,” Sam stops before they hit the gate, “Is there a more secret way in?”

“Only if you care to swim.”

“Not really.”

“Don’t worry, going through the city is mostly safe. Safer when you’re with me.”

“How comforting.”

“How kind of you.” 

Delphine stops, getting off her horse, helping Malborn down. Sam does the same, sliding off the horse. Etienne pulls the cloak around himself a bit more as they approach the gate more. The guards give them a look before opening it and allowing them to walk in. One of them definitely knows Etienne. Sam looks around a bit as the gate shuts behind them. He’d never been here. He’d ridden past it once or twice, but never inside. It didn’t look like how its reputation made it seem. A newly fallen leaf crunches under his boot. A few of the guards glance at him.

“Alright, follow me.” Etienne starts walking toward a set of stairs leading down to the lake, “There is an easier way, but that’s a secret.”

“Unfortunate.” Delphine glances around, staring briefly at a Khajiit before catching up a bit with the others.

“Delphine?”

“What?”

“Where am I supposed to go now.”

“After this, Malborn.”

“Alright, I know Sam can be quiet but not about the rest of you, make sure you are. Lots of people less pleasant than me.”

“What can we expect?”

“In the Ratways? Rats.”

“Rats.”

“Rats.” He opens a mildewy door into a sewer-like, mossy, slimy, hall. He walks in, silent as a spider creeping along its own webbing. Sam and the others follow suit, sticking just slightly closer together than before. It isn’t exactly as bad as Sam was picturing, but it is still unpleasant. Hushed whispers echo through one of the many passages among the soft squeaking of rats and the pattering of something that seems much bigger than a rat. Etienne looks down one of them before moving on. Must be far enough away that he isn’t worried. Sam doesn't exactly want to know what's down there either.

Sam looks toward the sound of rushing water as they near the doorway to an opening of sorts. Etienne pulls on a shotty looking sconce and a wooden bridge lowers down. Sam eyes the eaten away look it has until Etienne walks across with little trouble. Sure, it creaks, but it doesn’t seem like it’s going to fall apart the moment he steps on it leading him to fall into the water below them. Delphine is slightly more hesitant. But still follows, pulling Malborn with her.

On the other side, it opens to a small room with a door at the end. A sign hangs above it. 

The Ragged Flagon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy howdy, the few of you who actively read this, i apologize that its been so long! finals happened and knocked me down and im just now feeling up to writing :) classes resume next week for me, so there may be more in the weeks to come, but no promises.


	25. “Ah, there it is! The Snuggly Duckling. Don't worry, very quaint place, perfect for you. Don't want you scaring and giving up on this whole endeavor, now do we?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:  “Ah, there it is! The Snuggly Duckling. Don't worry, very quaint place, perfect for you. Don't want you scaring and giving up on this whole endeavor, now do we?”

  
  


Sam stares at a few cobwebs on the sign as they walk under it. No wind to keep the spiders off. It definitely doesn’t look new though. A side effect of it being in a sewer. Etienne pushes open a door, motioning for the rest of them to walk into a slightly brighter open room. Water moves through it, on the opposite side a large wooden platform covers it, tables and chairs strewn incoherently about it. 

“Welcome to the Ragged Flagon.”

“... A Tavern?”

“Where else?”

“Hmm.”

Etienne walks along the edge of a slimy walkway, just above the water moving through the room. 

“Etienne?” A Khajiit with dull orange fur drops a quill.

“Hello!”

“It’s been weeks!”

“Ah, a job went bad-”

“Can we skip the pleasantries?” Delphine cuts through the conversation. Etienne glances at her before being grabbed by the Khajiit who’d spoken initially. 

“What went wrong?” He, apparently, doesn’t want to skip the pleasantries. Delphine frowns.

“I’ll tell you later. For now-” Etienne reaches back, pulling Sam to his side, “- Saja, this is Sam, he’s looking for some information.”

Saja looks down his nose at Sam, eyes narrowed just slightly, “What kind of information?”

“Mercer kept records of the people who stay down in the warrens, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Sam, and his companions here, are looking for a man by the name of…” He looks down at Sam.

“Esbern.”

“Why?”

Sam glances at Etienne before tensing as he realizes it’s his turn to answer, “He-”

“He is an old friend and he’s in danger.” Delphine pushes forward. Saja glances her up and down.

“Anyone who stays in the Warrens is promised secrecy.”

“If I don’t find him, the world could end.”

“Like we haven’t heard that before!” A voice comes from the other side of the Tavern, drunker than drunk. 

“Hmm. Etienne.” Saja motions for Etienne to follow him. Sam watches as they go, disappearing down a hall. 

He turns to Delphine, “That was rude.”

“What?”

“His friend just showed up after being chained up for weeks and you were rude.”

“Samson-”

“Sam. Come here.” Saja walks out of the hall. Sam looks over at him before nodding and walking over. Delphine follows. Saja frowns, “Just Sam.” 

Sam glances back at her as she stops and he rounds a corner into a smaller room with old barrels and a different door. Saja locks the door behind him. Sam looks up at him. He’s tall for a Khajiit. Maybe a little different looking too. 

“Etienne says you rescued him.”

“I did.”

“That you infiltrated the Thalmor Embassy and stole information.”

“I did.”

“That you can shout.”

“I can.”

“Why are you looking for Esbern. It is never as simple as they say in the first confession.”

“Can I ask who you are?”

“Etienne didn’t tell you anything?” 

“No.”

Saja stares at him for a moment, “My name is Saja Dumag. That is it.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“Thank you. Why are you looking for him.”

“I’m the Dragonborn and he knows more than I do.”

“You’re the Dragonborn?”

“Yes.”

“There have been rumors… Half of them say you’re a nord bigger than a statue.”

“I am very much not.” 

“I see that. What does he know?”

“Something about how I need to kill Alduin and what I can do it with.”

“Why him?”

“Delphine didn’t tell me that much.”

“If I let you go find him, how do you know he’ll come with you?”

“I don’t.”

“This door will take you into the Warrens. Esbern is at the very end. Last door you’ll come upon. Etienne says you can turn yourself invisible.”

“I can.”

“Do that and you’ll be fine. Esbern knows another way out. Tell him you’ll need to go that way. Your companions will be waiting outside the city for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Eye for an eye. You saved one of us.” He pushes open the door. “If you’re ever looking for a line of work after you’ve done what you need to do, The Thieves Guild is open to you.”

Sam nods slowly as he walks through the door. The Thieves Guild. Huh. The door locks behind him. Sam turns and looks at it for a moment before taking slow steps into the grimy place. He can hear water but not see it. 

Oh right. Invisible. Be smart. 

Purple light burns in his hands for a moment before he can feel it work. It feels strange. Like a wet blanket, it draped over him, sticking to his skin. And if he loses his focus, the blanket is pulled off of him, leaving him alone.

He creeps through damp hallways. A voice or two echoes through the different short passages. Sam passes a few doors, making sure to take careful steps past each. The last thing he needs down here is someone hunting him.

Torches show up more and more the farther down he goes. Eventually, the hallways open up to a room with nowhere left to go. There is only one door. That has to be it. He walks up to it, hesitantly knocking. He tenses, looking around as the knocking echoes more than he wants or expected. The invisibility drops. 

“Who’s there?” A time-worn voice talks through the door. Sam stops for a moment. “Well?”

“I. I’m looking for Esbern.”

“You’ve come to a dead-end, go away.” Soft footsteps move away from the door

“Wait! Please, Delphine sent me.”

“How do you know her?”

“She’s,” He stops at the sound of clicking for a moment, “She’s looking for you, Alduin is-” The door swings open and an old hand pulls Sam inside before shutting it. Sam stumbles, falling on his hands and knees. The clicking fills his head again. Sam sits up, staring at a scratch on his palm. He freezes as a dagger is placed against his throat. 

“Who are you.”

“My name is Sam. Delphine says we need to find you because you know more about Alduin than her.” His voice shakes a bit as the blade presses a tad harder. 

“What about Alduin.”

“He’s back, he tried to kill me.”

“You?”

“I’m Dragonborn.” He takes a breath as the dagger is removed.

“You’re the Dragonborn?”

“Yes.”

“And Delphine knows this?”

“Yes.”

“Alduin has returned?”

“Yes.”

“But you are the Dragonborn.”

“ _ Yes _ .” 

“There is hope… Quickly, where is Delphine?”

“Outside of the city by now, you should know an alternative way out of here?”

“Yes! Yes, just allow me to pack a few items before we go.” He grabs a sack and begins pulling books off a shelf. Sam watches, staring at a book with a black leather cover as he shoves it in. The Book of the Dragonborn. He pulls his eyes away as it vanishes into the sack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. tangled quote because i can. another oc thrown in because i can. and esbern being more aggressive because it always seemed like he was too quick to trust.


	26. Reunions and Protections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of posting this chapter on January 16th, 2021, it is the one-year anniversary of starting to write this AND the two year anniversary of the concept (In the End) that started it! Thank you for reading it. I hope you're liking it!
> 
> This tumblr post contains some of the early storyboarding type stuff I did! https://thistletoad.tumblr.com/post/640481433443614720/thistletoad-its-ni-viirs-first-anniversary

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: REUNIONS AND "PROTECTIONS"

  
  


“There. I am ready.”

“Lead the way.” Sam watches as he undoes about 10 different locks on the door before pulling it open. He walks out, taking only a few steps before stopping in front of a wall. Sam watches as he pushes in a single stone with an eye-like symbol, just turned 180 degrees, carved into it. The stone parts, opening up to a grimey passageway.

“Through here.”

Sam holds up his hand, a small flame growing in his palm, lighting the passage. He walks in first, rounding a bit of the flame in his other hand before throwing it like a ball. It flies down, revealing little that could be threatening in any way. He looks back as the stones close, leaving them with only one way to go.

“This should lead out of a sewer grate.”

Sam nods and starts walking. He glances back at Esbern. “Who are you and Delphine?”

“We are Blades.”

“As in the Imperial Blades?”

“Yes. After the war, the few of us who managed to escape were scattered. I’m surprised she knew to find me here.”

“She didn’t. I… befriended one of the thieves. And they helped." 

"Hmm. Sam, what do you know of Dragonborns?"

"I know the last one didn't take kindly to being one." 

"Yes, Maros Septim. Anything else?" 

"They're mortal races born with the soul of a dragon." Sam holds his hand up a bit more. "And the ability to shout given the words in the dragon dialect. Without extensive training like Ulfric Stormcloak got." 

"Precisely. Have you mastered any shouts?" 

"A few."

"I have a journal of them. When we reach a safer place, you may look at it." 

"I… thank you." More words. More words to burn into his skull, leaving memories in the ash. 

"Ah. There. The ladder." 

Sam picks up his pace slightly as dim light shines over a ladder. Almost out. The fire goes out as Sam grabs the ladder, pulling himself up. He pushes on the grate, grunting as it finally gives and swings open, sending dirt cascading over him. He manages to close his eyes before it hits, but still inhales some. 

"Samson!" Hands grab him and pull him out of the hole, "did you find him?!" 

Delphine. Sam shuffles the rest of the way out of the hole, coughing the dirt out of his throat. He blindly points in the direction he thinks the hole is in before going back to brushing dirt off his face. Esbern climbs into view as Delphine looks back over. 

"Esbern…"

"Delphine!"

Sam opens his eyes, blinking as he stares at the two. 

"How did you escape?" 

Sam glances behind Delphine, eyes moving over a severed clawed hand before looking back at it. 

"The time for catching up is later." Esbern grips one of her hands. He looks over at Sam. "Sam has told me Alduin has returned." 

"Yes, but-"

Sam leans over, looking past the hand at the fresh corpse of a grey Khajiit.

"No. We must find Alduin’s Wall. It is here, in an Akaviri temple." He stands up, brushing off dirt. "The Wall is said to tell how Alduin was defeated at the end of the Dragoncult." 

"I have horses. Do you know where the temple is?" 

"Above Markarth. Hidden by the clouds. I do not know how well preserved it is." 

"That doesn't matter. Sam." 

"Hm?" He pulls his eyes away from the corpse. 

"Come on." Delphine holds a hand out. He grabs it, stumbling slightly as she pulls him up. Just steps away are their two horses. Sam glances around. 

"Where is Malborn?" 

"The Guild offered to give him passage to Windhelm. It's the safest place for him right now." She hands Sam the reins of one of the horses. He looks at it for a moment before climbing on. Windhelm. Maybe he knows someone. 

"Sam!" 

Sam's eyes shoot up. Delphine and Esbern are already moving. Oh. He pushes his heel into the horse's side, quickly catching up with them. Delphine gives him a look, stopping as her eyes move down to the stirrups. 

"Where are your shoes." 

Sam glances down, "Haven't got any." 

"What." 

"I'm not surprised you didn't notice. Cloak is long." 

Delphine opens her mouth to say something else, but closes it, shaking her head slightly before starting to move again. He follows after, taking the chance to look at the Rift once again. The trees shake with a soft breeze, a small amount of snow sits on the ground in various places. Some flowers poke out of it, drips of clear ice stuck on their pedals. He looks up as Esbern and Delphine’s voices just barely carry enough for him to hear, but make nothing out. 

Hmm. Sam looks back at the trees. Elk walk through them not too far away. They’ll be moving to the hot springs. It’s one of the only places the grass stays green and berries continue growing. A hunt will have started as well. As the Salmon leave back to the sea, the elk and deer take over. Windhelm has enough cured meat to live for a good few years. Not many people take to living in a crumbling city. If one did not know the ice under the bridge was the one cracking, it wouldn’t take much to convince someone that another brick had fallen off the outer wall. 

It used to scare him. If a blizzard would come, something would always crack. Sometimes he wondered why they stay. Then he reminds himself. 

“Sam.”

“Hm?”

“When we get to Whiterun, I want you to stay and wait there.”

“Why?”

“Esbern and I have no idea what to expect at the temple. Once we know it’s safe, I’ll send a carriage to get you.”

He looks at her, wanting to ask why once again but she beats him to it.

“It is our duty as Blades to protect you.”

Ah. 

Protect. Him. 

Great. 


	27. Waiting Games Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we've reached the connection to Moment of Memory :) if you want to see one of my other ocs perspectives for this chapter, here it is https://archiveofourown.org/works/23605306

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: WAITING GAMES BEGIN

“Sam, here.” 

Sam catches a small leather bag. “What’s it for?”

“Enough gold for a week at the inn,” Delphine pulls her horse to a slow stop outside the city’s defensive borders, getting off and walking to Sam, “Stay until the carriage comes.” She takes the reins from his hands. He hesitantly slides off, feet crunching the day-old snow. She glances down. 

“There is enough in there for shoes.”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine.” She pulls herself up on the horse’s back and leaves him standing in the snow. 

Esbern looks back at him, “We won’t be long. I’m sure whatever the Akaviri placed in their temples to keep the foolish out has continued to keep them out! Oh! Here, just in case we run into anything, will you keep my books with you?” 

Sam nods, taking the bag from him. Books. Something to do.

Esbern offers a smile before leaving as well. 

Sam looks down at the snow. Not soft like he’s used to. Old. Sharp. And overall, uncomfortable to walk in. He sighs and starts walking, pulling his hood over his head. Delphine must have some faith in him to keep away from eyes who could recognize him. He walks on the side of the path, keeping his eyes forward. Why go in the city yet? No reason too. 

Sam walks on, past guards, out into the fields. A Giant camp sits far off, the massive fire burning bright and warm. He turns away from the road, climbing up on a small outcrop of rocks. The sun is low and shining in his face. It feels warm. If he were home, he wouldn’t be able to see it right now. The mountains are too tall. 

Hmm. 

He narrows his eyes at it a bit. 

“Are you ever going to say anything? Ever? Anything. Not even words. Just something.” He blinks a few times as tears burn from staring. “No? Wonderful. Great. I know the basics. If I die, it’s on you.” He pulls his knees up, resting his chin on them as the sun sinks behind a mountain. He looks out into the fields as a figure stumbles out of the woods. Sam stares at them for a moment before looking away as they get closer. 

Not like he needs any trouble. Especially not from random… Mountain men. 

He waits for a second after they pass him to turn around and look at them again. Fur. Looks like an Imperial? Maybe a little tall for one. Sam twists back around as the person rounds a corner. Huh. He wasn't wearing shoes either. 

He glances over at the guards as they light a few torches. Maybe it's time to go in. Yellow grass bends under his feet as he slides off the rock and walks back over to the road. The guards don't pay him much attention as he walks up to the main gates. 

"What's your business?" 

"A place to sleep." 

"Hm." The Guard gives him one last look before gesturing for him to go in. Sam slips through the gap between the doors. He looks around a bit, finding a sign pointing straight ahead to the “Bannered Mare”. He looks down the stone roads and starts walking. A few men stumble out of a building toward the end of the road, just before it turns. 

He looks at it hard for a minute. 

Oh. That’s the building he scaled the wall behind. 

Hm. Comforting. 

He walks the rest of the way a little faster than before, opening the door to a warm… More welcoming, room than he expected. A fire burns in the center of the room, it isn’t exactly loud, but not quite either. He glances through the people, stopping for a moment on the person from the fields. And another next to them. He looks away as the other person looks at him, missing the grin before it’s pulled away. Sam weaves through some of the people and up to the Inn Keeper.

“What can I get you?”

“A room for a few nights.”

“Staying for more than a night, that’s rare… It’s ten gold a night.”

Sam pulls 40 gold pieces out, placing them in piles of ten in front of her. She takes them, pile by pile, and puts them away. 

“Any food right now? Elk stew?”

“Sure.”

“Go on up to your room, door with a bunch of red mountain flowers hanging on it, Saadia’ll bring up the food in a moment.”

“Thank you.” He turns away from her, weaves through the people once again, and makes his way up a creaky staircase, finding the red flowers. He pulls open the door, dropping his bags less than kindly on the floor, shutting the door, and dropping on the bed. Comfy. 

He shuffles, laying on his side for a moment before reaching out and grasping for the bags to drag them over to him. He pulls the bag Esbern gave him open pulling out one of the books. He reads the title pressed into the binding. 

The Dragon War. 

He stares at the words.

The skeletons he passed on the mountain. They all died in the Dragon War. 

A knock on the door causes him to jump and drop the book, sitting up. The door opens slowly, a redguard sticking her head in, “Food?”

“Yes,” He stands, grabbing a few coins, meeting her more than halfway. Taking the stew, “How much is it?”

“Oh, Dinners are free with the room.” She smiles and leaves him , shutting the door behind her. He looks down at the stew, a chunk of bread sticking out of it. His stomach growls. He sits down again, picking the book back up as he takes a bite. He pulls it open a page or two in. 

“Dragons, being dragons, embraced their role as god-kings over men. After all, were they not fashioned in Akatosh's own image? Were they not superior in every way to the hordes of small, soft creatures that worshipped them? For dragons, power equals truth. They had the power, so therefore it must be truth…” Sam trails off. He stares at the passage. Those words are too close to the truth of what he’d heard for comfort. 

He shuts the book. 

But they could be different. Paarthurnax. Numunnax. Others! Himself. They can change. 

They have to be able to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty, folks, this could be the last update for a bit! class starts in a day and while adhd has so generously allowed me to hyperfocus on this for the last week, i don't imagine ill have the spoons to update for a bit as writing this usually involves reading a lot of lore (and watching some videos, thank you camelworks, fudgemuppet, mrrhexx, and theepicnate315) to make sure im sticking to the things i want and ignoring the others i dont!


	28. Walls. Great for Thinking, Who Knew.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: WALLS. GREAT FOR THINKING, WHO KNEW. 

Sam rolls onto his side, blinking in the sunlight. 

No dreams. 

That’s nice. But also not. 

He looks at the book, hanging halfway off the bed, before grabbing a corner and pulling it so it doesn’t fall. What other books are here… He sits up, grabbing the bag once again and digging around. His hands find a soft leather book toward the bottom. He pulls it out, looking for markings, a title, but he finds none. Ink stains it in a few different places. 

Curiosity gets the best of him and he opens it.

A massive amount of pages have been torn out. He stares at them before looking at the pages that were left. 

_ It is a few days after the attack. I truly hope the Empire did not know the elves would turn first to fire. I do not know who escaped. Who wasn’t able too. And who will even survive after. Any Blade who chose to take up arms, though few, as well as those who were with the Emperor, are surely dead. I have chosen to burn any page with the name of a Blade.  _

_ I am lucky. I still have some friends in Skyrim. I am being directed to The Thieves Guild in the city of Riften. It is a longer journey. A day or so on foot and I will not be taking any roads. I cannot risk it.  _

_ I have made it. The guild resides in the sewers of the city, far far under the waterline and directly under the guard's noses. The guild master, a man named Gallus, has assured me that anyone taking up in the Warrens will be kept in total secrecy. No records will be kept.  _

_ Now that I am here. I cannot help but feel more and more guilt eating away at me. I feared what the Thalmor would do to our records, our books, so I gave them priority over many other things. Other people. But now I am here. And there is nothing I could possibly do now.  _

Sam slowly closes the journal and shoves it back into the bottom of the bag. 

He knew that the Thalmor were… Coldhearted. Even though Ulfric wouldn’t ever say much. Would refuse to say much. That refusal had always been enough to hint at the severity. And Sam wasn’t about to press anything. He’d been told how his father died by choking on his own bloody vomit during one of several terribly drunk nights. And it was enough for Sam to have to peek his head into Ulfric’s room in the dead of night after he’d drunk enough for 4 men just to make sure he wasn’t lying on his back and the one time he wasn’t, Galmar could have sworn the whole of Skyrim,  _ of Tamriel, _ could have heard Sam.

He didn’t remember anything about the man. He was too young too. But after a few hours of prying, he’d learned his name was Erik. And after another hour, his mother’s name was Luka. That she died in childbirth. 

And after that, he never pressed for more. It was speaking lightly to say it was a touchy subject. Very lightly. No one liked to look back on the war or who was lost to the aftermath of it. 

He looks back at the bag of books. He shouldn’t have read that. 

After a moment, he stands up. It feels wrong here. Sam walks out of the room, taking a key from next to the door, locking the door behind him. The stairs creak under his feet as he walks down and out of the mostly empty inn. The clouds drift over the sun, patchy, but still offering light as beams peek through differently sized cracks. 

Sam walks around the backside of the inn, pushing snow off the wall and climbing up, sitting, legs dangling over the edge. He turns and looks from the homes and farms outside the walls. He looks up at the mountain, shrouded by a thick layer of snow clouds. Sam looks farther up toward the sky watching the clouds drift. 

Wind picks up the snow, dancing with it for just a moment before dropping it completely and slowing to a breeze. Sam looks to his left, grabbing a handful of snow, shaping it into an uneven ball, and throwing it as far as he can. He watches it splatter on the rest of the snow, blending in like it was always there. 

He stares at it a little longer before turning and leaving the wall.


	29. Out of The Snow and Into The Clouds

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: OUT OF THE SNOW AND INTO THE CLOUDS

Sam opens his eyes, staring at the wooden floor. It’s still dark. He sits up, looking at the window. There is some light but not much. He stands, grabbing his cloak, walking closer to the window. Massive snowflakes fall to the ground, building on the day-old snow. That explains the lack of light. Ish. He walks out of the room and down the stairs, passing by two passed out men as he walks out into the city. The snow flattens and begins to melt a bit as he walks down into the marketplace. The stalls are empty at the moment. It must be earlier than he thought. He glances at a guard walking down the stone streets toward him. 

Sam turns and takes a branch off the main street toward smaller houses and the wall. He can’t see more than 100 feet outwards and the river sounds muffled and soft compared to before. It feels like home for just a few seconds before Sam realizes the lack of pines takes him out of that feeling. He looks out at the grass just barely sticking up above the snow. It’ll be completely covered soon. Sam blinks as a snowflake falls right on his eye, the water slowly dripping down his face as it melts more and more before it's gone. 

He takes a moment more to look out as far as he can before turning and walking back to the Inn. 

“What do you mean he left?”

“I don’t know what else to tell you. He walked out a bit ago.”

“Brown hair, his eye’s covered-”

“I’m telling you, he left.”

“The snow is thicker than bear fur, why would he leave?”

“No idea.”

The man turns, exasperation showing blatantly on his face as he makes eye contact with Sam, “Sam?”

“...yes?”

“Delphine sent me.”

“Ah, I’ll go get my stuff.” Sam walks up to the room, grabbing his two bags and walking back down.

“Come on, we have a lot of ground to cover.”

“Where are they?” Sam follows him outside.

“Later.”

“What’s your name?”

“Not here.”

“What?”

“Once we’re on the road, I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“O...kay.” Sam walks faster after the man out of the city and down by the stables where a carriage is waiting.

“Get in.”

Sam throws his bags up, climbing in as the carriage starts moving.

“Put the shoes on.”

“What-”

“She told me if you still weren’t wearing any to tell you to put them on.”

“I don’t need them.”

“Just put the shoes on.”

Sam stares at them, reluctantly pulling them on. 

“I’m Salas. I am… Friend of Delphine.”

“You're a B-”

“ _ Yes _ .”

“Where are we going.”

“A temple near Markarth. Ever been to Markarth?”

“No.”

“Good, don't ever go. Place is fucking terrible.”

“What’s in the temple?”

“Hopefully what we’re looking for. We need you to get in. Needs your blood.”

“My… Blood?”

“Some magic seal, I don’t know, Esbern’s the history one.”

“Oh.” Sam sits on the floor of the carriage, his back toward Salas. He pulls the cloak’s hood up as the snow starts settling on his neck. 

“How’d Delphine find you?”

“Kidnapped me after looking through my things for a thing I know she wants but won’t give her, and chased me around and killed… Someone to get me to corporate.”

“What?”

“I was outside High Hrothgar and she grabbed me.”

“Hm. Little Drastic. Even for her.”

“And what was she like before?”

“Not much different.”

“Oh.”

“What about you? Where are you from?”

“Windhelm.”

“How was that?”

“I… Don’t know.”

“Don’t miss it?”

“... No.”

“Good for you.”

“Why?”

“Takes a lot to admit you dislike the place you grew up. Especially as a nord.”

“Oh.” 

The two sit in silence. Sam stares at the boots. He pulls them off and shoves them to the side. The snow slowly changes to rain as they move onward, higher up in more mountains closer to High Rock. Sam takes a few deep breaths. Rain. It smells nice. Snow makes everything dry, almost painful to breathe without cloth over your mouth if you’re out too long. Rain is nice. He pushes the hood back, looking up at the sky. 

“Doesn’t rain much in Windhelm, does it?”

“No. Maybe a few times in the summers. Usually, just snow that won’t stick.” Sam looks down a bit as a shadow flies through the clouds. He sits up, clumsily pulling on the boots and bags, standing up as he sees it again. 

“What's the rush-”

“ _ DOVAHKIIN _ !” 

Sam nearly falls off the carriage as the horse rears and breaks into a sprint as a dragon breaks through the clouds. Nahagliiv. Only nearly pure copper dragon with red and black patches Sam had ever seen. 

“Hold on, kid, I’m gonna try and lose him-” Salas grapples with the reins as Sam watches the dragon take a breath in. He turns, lunging at Salas, tackling him off the carriage, both rolling to the side of the road as the dragon lets out the breath.

“ _ FUS RO DAH! _ ”

Sam keeps his head down as he hears the carriage shatter and a scream from the horse cut off with more than a few snaps. He looks up as the ground shakes, Nahagliiv slithering toward them. Sam looks over at Salas. He’s out cold. Sam looks back, shuffling back a bit as he sees sparks fly out of the dragon’s mouth.

“Nahagliiv-”

“ _ Alduin fun zu’u hi los mul.” _

_ “Nahagliiv-” _

_ “Hi los ni girk.” _

_ “NAHAGLIIV!” _ Sam stares at the dragon as he stops moving, the sparks ceasing. He takes a shaky breath. 

“ _ Saansilkiin?” _

_ “Zeymah.”  _ Sam looks over at the blade as he groans and rolls over on his back, “You need to go.”

Nahagliiv shifts back, still staring.

“GO!” Sam watches as the dragon vanishes into the clouds as Salas sits up. He looks around, eyes locking on Sam.

“Where did it go? The Dragon?”

“I scared it off.”

“You?”

“I… I shouted. At it.”

“Hm,” Salas gives him a small look before sighing, “We’re walking the rest of the way.”

“How far?”

“Few hours.” He stands up and starts walking, wiping a drop of blood off his forehead. Sam scrambles after him, throwing his bags on his back as Salas grabs one out of the carriage wreckage. Sam looks back, slowing a bit.

“Sam.”

“Hm?”

“Come on, there’s a lot of shit out here beside Dragons I don’t want to deal with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alduin fun zu’u hi los mul - Alduin said you are strong
> 
> Hi los ni girk - You do not seem such
> 
> Zeymah - brother


	30. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the opening of the temple. I've described Sam cutting his wrist to activate the seal. read at your own discretion. the palm cutting is stupid. not enough blood, painful as hell, and risks infection that could cause one to lose their hand.

CHAPTER THIRTY: BREAK

“You see that building up there?”

“Yeah,” Sam looks up as Salas points to one of the peaks at a building just seen through the clouds before it vanishes again, “What is it?”

“The temple we’re going to.”

“Hm.” Sam catches one more glance before the clouds get too thick. 

“We’re getting close, not much farther.”

“How have you stayed hidden?”

“Being a hermit, why?”

“How’d Delphine find you?”

“She’s smart. Has a small network going.”

“She found you fast.”

“You’re more prickly than she is.” 

“Oh.”

“Not a terrible thing.”

“Oh.” Sam follows him around the bends of the road before he takes a sharp turn upward toward a cave. Sam stands in the entrance for a moment as Salas walks in, shaking water out of his hair. 

This puts him even closer to what could be the end.

“Sam?”

“Hm?”

“They're waiting deeper in the cave.” Salas waits for Sam to start walking and the two of them move deeper into the cave. The smell of smoke becomes stronger as they walk through disabled traps until it opens up to a room covered in plant life, cracked open ceiling allowing the rain to fall in, seeping into the moss. 

“You’re here.” Delphine’s voice echoes with relief as she looks up at them.

“Bit of trouble. You’re not getting the carriage back.”

“What happened?”

“Dragon attacked us. Sam scared it off.”

“You did?” She turns to Sam, surprise showing a bit too much. 

“Yes.”

“Good. Good job,” She stands up, “Now that you’re here, we can get into the temple.”

“Where’s Esbern?”

“Here!” His voice draws their eyes upwards where Esbern is levitating, looking at carvings. He slowly drops down, walking over to a circle on the floor in front of a massive head, “Sam, come here.”

Sam walks up to him. The face is… Unsettling to say the least.

“Do you have a dagger?”

“No.”

“Here.” Salas throws a sheathed one to him. 

“Right here,” Esbern crouches down pointing to the center of the circle with a myriad of symbols, “This symbol means Dragonborn. I believe it is a blood seal.”

“Salas told me.”

“Wonderful. The temple should open with your blood.”

“Okay.” Sam takes the dagger out, carefully cutting a small slit into his wrist. He holds his wrist over the center, letting a fair amount of blood drip down before grabbing the cut, pressing on it to stop the bleeding. 

“Here.” Esbern holds his hand out, shimmering magic flowing over it. Sam uncovers the cut, blood dripping down his arm, ceasing as the magic forces it closed. They look up as the head cracks and moves upward, revealing a stairway. Esbern stands up, muttering as he walks up to the stairs. Sam looks at the blood before wiping as much as he could off on the cloak. He stands up, handing the dagger back to Salas. 

“Look at this! This architecture must be hundreds of years old! All of you, come on!”

Sam’s the first one on the staircase behind him. Delphine and Salas got their fill of this 20 years ago. 

“It’s here… Alduin’s Wall.” Esbern practically runs through the main room of the temple, yanking moss and vines from the home they’d had for years and years to reveal the craved wall. Sam stares at the carving revealed in the center. Alduin. The temple lights up as Delphine and Salas test two old torches before moving to more torches and bowls.

“Sam, what do you know of the Dragon Cult?”

“A bit. I know some of the names of the Dragons who chose to help the Humans.”

“Where did you learn them?”

“I don’t remember. It’s been a while.” Sam looks up at the wall, at the carving of Alduin.

“Do you remember the names?”

Sam looks at him, “Why? They’re probably long dead.”

“If they aren’t they could turn back to Alduin.” Esbern keeps walking along the wall, squinting at small details, “Look at this,” Esbern’s fingers brush against the stone, “This is the symbol for a shout.

“A shout?”

“Did the Greybeards mention a shout that could harm dragons in this way to you?”

“No.”

“And here,” He moves along the wall, “This is you. The Last Dragonborn.”

Sam glances at it. The carving shows a godlike figure slaying Alduin. He looks away, “I don’t think any of the dragons who betrayed Alduin would turn back to him. They were smart enough to turn away from him once.”

“Hm. Do you know anything else? Delphine has told me Ulfric Stormcloak raised you, did he ever tell you anything the Greybeards told him?”

“No. He never talks about it.” 

“What about you? You were up there for a day. Did they tell you anything?” Delphine walks out of one of the rooms.

“No.”

“Hm. I’m surprised Ulfric didn’t tell you anything. Not even Drunk.”

“He never drank like that around me. He has some… sensitivity to how people lose their fathers.”

“Your father?”

Sam gives her a look, “Erik?”

“Erik wasn’t your father. He found you and took you in.”

“What?”

“There was a period of time that I was having to move around more than normal before I was able to stop for good in Riverwood. I was in Windhelm three weeks after Erik had died. Ulfric told me Erik had found you 2 years earlier when he was hunting. You were half-buried in a snowbank. You weren’t dead so he took you back with him. Ulfric never told you?”

“... No.” 

“Hm. It doesn’t matter. Not to any of this at least.”

“Delphine.” Esbern’s hands drop from the wall. Delphine looks at him. 

“What?”

“He took me to a fucking coffin.”

Salas stops dead on the stairs as he gets a glimpse of the room. 

“Erik was buried-”

“He told me it was my _mother_.”

“Sam now is not-” 

“HOW IS IT NOT A GOOD TIME?” Sam’s voice echoes through the room, “You’ve dragged me to a place that shows my family being killed, made by the people who did anything in their power to hunt them down and kill them, then just told me the one person I thought I could trust lied to me for years.”

“Sam-”

“I had finally figured shit out when I was up on that mountain and _you_ took me off it! That’s all you’ve been doing! YOU KILLED VULJOTNAAK AND BECAUSE OF ME, HE IS GONE FOREVER! THERE WILL NEVER BE A GOOD TIME!”

“You need to-”

“ _KOS NAHLOT!_ _ZU’U FEN NI OBLAAN FAH HI,_ ** _KRIVAAN_** _.”_ The temple shakes, walls fracturing. Esbern stares at the new cracks in the stone, a small, displeased, look on his face. Delphine raises her hands slightly, taking a step toward Sam. Sam takes three backward. 

Salas clears his throat, dragging their eyes to him, “Now I believe that he scared the dragon off.” Salas shrugs at the stares. Delphine rolls her eyes and looks back. Sam is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KOS NAHLOT! ZU’U FEN NI OBLAAN FAH HI, KRIVAAN - BE SILENT! I WILL NOT STOP FOR YOU, MURDERER!


	31. A Chance

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: A CHANCE

Sam tears down the stairs, nearly slipping as he runs over the wet stone, past the traps, and into the cave. Dirt and grass fly up behind him as he leaves the cave and stumbles down the hill in the rain. He skids to a stop as a dragon lands, blocking his path. Sam takes a breath before realizing who it is. 

“Nahagliiv-”

“ _ Kolos? _ ”

“The mountain. Paarthurnax is there.” Sam climbs on the dragon’s neck as he lowers his head. Delphine runs out of the cave as Nahagliiv takes off. Sam stares at her as long as he can before the clouds are too thick.

“ _ Los hi het? _ ”

“ _ Zu'u dreh ni mindok. _ ”

“ _ Nid? _ ”

“ _ Nid. _ ” Sam tucks his head down as the rain turns to sleet and feels like needles on his skin. “You were there.”

“ _ Kolos? _ ”

“The day Alduin fell.”

“ _ Geh _ .”

“Do you remember how they did it?”

“ _ Nid. _ ”

Sam doesn’t respond, keeping his head tucked away until Nahagliiv lands and the snow softens. Sam looks up, eyes finding the cracked and worn word wall. Relife crashes down on him and he slides off Nahagliiv, falling in the snow. He stays there for a moment until he looks up. Paarthurnax and Nahagliiv stare at each other. 

Sam sits up, making two snowballs. The two dragons' eyes whip over to him as the snow splatters on their scales, “You could say hello. To each other.”

“ _ Nahagliiv. _ ”

“...  _ Paarthurnax. _ ”

“Great. Good job. Paarthurnax?”

“ _ Geh _ ?”

“They used a shout. Do you know it?”

Paarthurnax looks away from Nahagliiv, “I do. But I cannot say it.”

“Why not?”

“It was born of hate and anger toward our kind. I cannot comprehend it.”

“Will I be able to?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect, any chance you know how I can learn it?”

“Who did you call  _ Krivaan _ ?”

Sam blinks for a moment before looking over at Nahagliiv, “No one. How can I learn the shout.” 

Paarthurnax glances between the two, “Have you learned why this _strunmah_ is important?”

“It’s where Kyne breathed life into the nords.”

“ _ Wah Mu _ ?”

“It’s where the Tongues banished Alduin.”

“They used _aan_ _kel_. An Elder Scroll.”

“An elder scroll… Then it's there. The-there was a book, it talked about how once something happened and was concrete, it was there for good, the event. But I can’t read them, can I?”

“When the Tongues made their attempt to slay Alduin here and they found they could not, one among them brought  _ aan kel _ and used to banish Alduin here. When they did this, it created a fracture, a break in time that our sisters were instructed to leave until you could use it. If you bring the Elder Scroll here. You should be able to use it to see when the break happened.”

“What if the scroll isn’t close? What if the Moth Priests have it? Last person to steal from them was the Grey Fox and no one knows what happened to them-”

“ _ Hi mindol pogaas.” _

“I think a fine amount.”

“Go down to them. They will know more about what the world is like now better than I. They will have a better idea of where you can look.”

“Great, it’ll be a wonderful conversation.”

“When you find the scroll, bring it here.”

“Yeah.” Sam turns away from them, starting to walk down the mountain. The wind takes his hearing away as Nahagliiv asks ‘how’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kolos - Where
> 
> Los hi het - are you here?
> 
> Zu'u dreh ni mindok - i do not know.
> 
> Nid - no
> 
> Geh - yes
> 
> Krivaan - murderer
> 
> Strunmah - mountain
> 
> aan kel - an elder scroll
> 
> Hi mindol pogaas - you think much


	32. Why Do You Want This?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: WHY DO YOU WANT THIS?

  
  


“ _ LOK VAH KOOR! _ ” Sam walks down the steps as the barrier clears. He stops at the top of the second staircase as one set of doors rams open on the other side of the courtyard. Arngeir stands in the doorway, staring at him. Sam straightens and walks the rest of the way. 

“Hello.”

“We thought you left.”

“Not of my own choice.”

“What-”

“I need to find an Elder Scroll.”

“Why.”

“Why not?”

“Even if I did know where an Elder Scroll was, why do you need one?”

“I need the shout the Tongues used.”

“Where did you learn of that?”

“That doesn’t matter-”

“It does. A shout of that power could bring destruction. Who told you of it. Where have you been.”

Sam stares at him, “Fine, fine, a woman named Delphine followed me up here from Whiterun. When I went outside, she knocked me out. She said she was a Blade and that a colleague knew more about this - all of this - so I helped her find him and took me to an Akaviri Temple that had a carved wall showing how Alduin was defeated, a shout. I need to learn it.”

“If you are working with the Blades, we will not help you.”

“Do you think I’d be here. Instead of wandering around trying to find information if I was?”

“... No.” He sighs, stepping out of the doorway to allow Sam inside. The snow in Sam’s hair begins melting as he walks in, Arngeir shutting the door behind them, “Why do you want to learn this shout.”

“I need to. I don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“He killed me. A long time ago. Probably in the most painful way he could think of. I don’t really want to kill him.”

“Then why do it.”

“I have too.”

“The Blades’ did not tell you this?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

“No one. I figured it out myself.”

“I do not know where an Elder Scroll could be close enough for you to find. The Empire was correct in their want to contain them, though that may be futile. But if I were you and needed this… knowledge would likely be held at The College of Winterhold.”

“The College. Right. Thank you.” Sam starts walking toward the front doors.

“Did Paarthurnax agree with this?”

“Yes.”


End file.
